Back for More (Death Valley - Dec 2021)

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I'm one lucky dude. Having just gotten back from two trips to Death Valley - (Lowest Peak in the Park) (Highest Peak in the Park) - over a three-week period, I'm now headed back for my third trip in a month!

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But, frequency isn't the only reason I'm excited. Every year, a few buddies get together for an annual outing - usually in early fall - to explore and hang out. For me, it all started when I tagged along on my first major trip - The De-Tour - and I've been hooked ever since. This year, truck problems and smoky conditions cancelled our trip - a huge bummer - until now!

Finally, I get to play tour-guide for a spot I've come to love. It will be the first visit to Death Valley - in more than 10 years of exploration - for a couple of the guys, and our route will take us to lots of iconic places. With a little luck, I'll get them hooked on the desert too, and before long, we'll all be Back for More.

Where are we going? Just a few places - you know, Titus Canyon, Ubehebe Crater, Teakettle Junction, Racetrack Playa, Hidden Valley, the Lost Burro Mine, Lippincott Pass, Ballarat, Pleasant Valley, Gohler Wash, Mengal Pass, the Barker Ranch, Butte Valley, Warm Springs Rd, Saratoga Springs and the Ibex Dunes, Badwater Basin, Devils Playground, Zabrinski Point, Echo Canyon and the Inyo Mine, Crankshaft Junction, Eureka Valley and Dunes, Dedeckera Canyon, Steel Pass, and finally Saline Valley and its Warm Springs.

Well, that was the plan anyway. We had a great time, but it surely didn't go all to plan.

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That's awesome. I was there the first week of November and had a killer time and I can't stop thinking about it. Was it cold when you went? I had a buddy that went to Joshua Tree NP last week and he said it was cold as hell.

 

Given that this was a group trip, I'll post the entire story here as well as in my build thread. Mike, Monte, Zane - PLEASE do add commentary, highlights, and photos. Would love to hear your experiences and see it through your eyes as well!


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Welcome to Death Valley, Boys - Back for More #1
Part of the Back for More (Dec 2021) trip.

It all started with us meeting after dark just outside of Beatty, Nevada. I'd been driving for nearly 20 hours by the time I pulled into camp to greet Mike @Digiratus and Zane @Speedytech7 who'd arrived a few hours earlier. As we all climbed into our tents, Monte @Blackdawg texted that he was going to drive through the night and show up the following morning!

Camping under the Beatty "B" - convenient, but not glamorous.​

Day 2
We were up at the crack of late morning - something around 8:00am - a couple hours after sunrise, and certainly later than we'd need to get going for the remainder of the trip. Being December, we had fewer than 10 hours of light each day, and our itinerary meant that we were going to need to make the most of it.

Still, Monte wasn't due for a few more hours, so we each placed our bet on how late he'd be as we got camp packed up and headed into Beatty to top off our fuel tanks. With guesses between 11:30am and 1:00pm, I suggested that we check out the Goldwell Open Air Museum while we waited.

A desert artist.​

Just outside the early 1900s ghost town of Rhyolite, the museum is a funky - but perhaps expected - find in the desert. Created by Albert Szukalski and a group of Belgian artists, it is a self-described "art situation," consisting of several outdoor sculptures that seem both out of place and right at home in the desert.

A colossal couch.​

Comfy? No, not really. But Mike and Zane were watching and at least they got a good chuckle as I became one with the art.​

This frame was new the last time I was here, and Mike seemed to enjoy exploring it from various angles with his lens.​

We spend 45 minutes or so looking around before we were all ready to go, and hoping that it was nearly time for Monte to show up. A quick text and we learned that he had a little over 90 minutes to go - so we headed up the hill to Rhyolite for a bit more looking around.

We started at the top of the hill and the south end of town, near the rail station, only because there were several other folks already looking around the other structures.​

Of the two legitimate mining towns that sprung up in Death Valley during the early 1900s, Rhyolite had only Skidoo to compete with from a size perspective. With a population of over 10,000 at one time, Rhyolite - founded in 1904 - was the larger of the two towns and sported a train station, school, and at least four banks. But, like many towns of its day, Rhyolite was a prime example of "counting your chickens before they're hatched" The rich strike of gold by Eddie Cross and a "Shorty" Harris in 1904 was enough to get the town going, but not enough to sustain it through the financial panic of 1907 when businesses started to shut down. By 1916 the power and light company had shut down and the people had moved on.

One of four banks in Rhyolite, the Cook Bank Building was by far the finest. Three stories tall, it had a basement that housed the Post Office. The interior was finished with marble staircases and mahogany accents. It also boasted modern conveniences such as electric lights and indoor plumbing. It was open less than two years.​

The Overbury Building was meant to be two stories tall; however, after John Cook began constructing a three-story building just up the street, Overbury quickly changed his mind, and his building became three stories tall. At its height, the building housed a stock brokerage firm, the First National Bank of Rhyolite, a dentist, and attorneys' offices.​

Construction of the Porter Brothers Store began in 1906. It used local stone and took four months at a cost of $70,000. The largest employer of people in Rhyolite aside from the mines, the store was said to house amazing displays that rivalled hose of the department stores in major cities.​

Finally, we visited the bottle house. This one - unlike the other ruins we'd visited - isn't original as it's been restored/rebuilt twice, but it's still a cool structure to check out. In the last several years, a fence has been constructed around it in order to preserve it for future generations, so unlike my first visit, we weren't able to peer in the few windows that exist.

Just a few bottles.​

A wall of bottles.​

A house of bottles.​

Our exploration of Rhyolite complete, I texted Monte as we drove the final few miles to our first trailhead. It was there - just east of the entrance to Death Valley National Park - that we would air down and wait. It was there - at the Titus Canyon trailhead - where our real journey would begin.

Everything is always so clean before you hit the dirt trails.​

Well, well, look who's still tearing around corners after driving all night!​

Finally, we were four!​

Monte showed up right on time, for him. Actually, at only 45 minutes late, he was technically early! Having not seen each other for more than a year, we all shared warm greetings and chatted for a few minutes before I shushed everyone into their trucks so we could get a move on - it was nearly noon, and I wanted to get us to a spot where I knew we'd have fantastic views before settling down for lunch.

Not more than a few miles in, the views began.​

Everyone was glad to be on dirt, though we could have done with a little less dust - which would plague us much of the trip - as we sped along.​

Having run Titus Canyon a few times, I think of it as having two distinct sections. The first is a desert traverse that winds up into the Grapevine Mountains and terminates at Red Pass. This section - while not the namesake of the trail - might be my favorite. Certainly, the experience of reaching Red Pass and seeing the canyon open up below - that is my favorite part of the trail.

I'll never tire of this view.​

At first, I thought I wasn't the only one who thought it was a pretty snazzy spot...​

...until I realized Mike was just proud of his new *overland* tent. ( , j/k)​

We spent a good hour at Red Pass, with the entire place to ourselves - surprisingly, not a single vehicle passing while we ate lunch - as we caught each other up on recent happenings, truck maintenance, and all the things we'd somehow forgotten to mention to each other over the course of more than 10,000 posts on TacomaWorld. It was fantastic.

Finally, a little after 1:00pm, we got back on the trail.​

It's the second half of the Titus Canyon trail that is the highlight for nearly everyone who takes this route into Death Valley. Personally, I think it's the second-best route in from the east - after the much more difficult Echo Canyon - but it's definitely the route I'd recommend taking on anyone's first visit to the park.

Four miles long and hundreds of feet deep, Titus Canyon's narrows are as tight as 15 feet and rank among the longest and deepest - sometimes rising 500' to the rim - in the park. Filled with bulging walls, overhangs, undercuts, and colorful mosaics, they are a glorious introduction to the wonderous geology of the region, and I have yet to see the visitor who passes through unfazed. This time was no exception.

Approaching and entering the upper narrows of Titus Canyon, the rock "wave"-ing a welcome to all who pass by.​

All these layers, bent by pressure and time, eventually to be eroded by water and gravel.​

Where our stops had been rare in the upper canyon, we found ourselves hopping out of the trucks much more often over the last several miles.​

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Contrasting colors and textures are part of what make this place so exciting.​

Winding our way through tight turns, the midday sun rarely reached the bottom of the canyon. Instead, reflective glows lit the walls around us.​

Even for me, the anticipation about what was around each bend was exhilarating.​

As we neared the end of the narrows, there's a section of wall that I'm sure I've seen before, but that really caught my attention this time through - both sides of the canyon decorated with giant polished mosaics.

Mosaic masterpiece.​

These are breccia made of large, dark, and angular blocks of limestone - some several feet across - cemented by white calcite. The limestone probably shattered into blocks thousands of feet underground, where hot water dissolved some of it and redeposited it as calcite in the gaps between blocks. The blocks were displaced very little with respect to each other after shattering, as shown by the matching orientation of cracks in adjacent blocks. (Hiking Death Valley)

Just beyond the wash-level mosaics, a large undercut was decorated with more of the jagged - yet smooth - formation.​

That light on the canyon wall was a sure indicator that we were close to the mouth.​

It was 2:15pm when I exited the mouth of Titus Canyon and started down the alluvial fan that leads to the floor of Death Valley. Like the canyon itself, this entrance - into the wide-open space that shares the same name as the entire park - is dramatic, and I fired up the CB radio, "Welcome to Death Valley, boys!"

A grand entrance.​

Having all spent many hours driving to get here, I hadn't planned much for this first day of our trip. In fact, we had only a couple more spots before we'd be finding camp - and the first was a few miles to the north on Scotty's Castle Road: Ubehebe Crater.

A few miles of pavement were a nice respite from the dust.​

Ubehebe Crater is the largest of more than a dozen craters clustered within a single square mile at the northern end of Death Valley. Although some of these craters emitted lava, all of them are maars: they erupted when magma encountered an aquifer and/or surface water, creating a pressurized head of superheated steam that blew up the ground above it. A column - consisting of water droplets, ash, and pulverized rock - was blasted high into the atmosphere, before collapsing downward to the ground. This collapse caused a ring-shaped cloud to spread radially outward at high velocity, blanketing the surrounding terrain and filling every drainage with volcanic tuff.

I always feel that taken in its entirety, Ubehebe Crater is somewhat underwhelming. Perhaps it is simply too large, or too plain compared to the landscape that surrounds it.​

However, upon closer inspection of the crater walls, the intricate complexity is immediately apparent.​

The Grapevine Mountains, rising up behind the crater wall as it erodes into a steep, fractal, badland.​

As I knew would be the case, we didn't spend long at Ubehebe Crater. There are hikes here - to narrow canyons, to the base of the crater, to desiccated playas, and through petrified ash dunes - for anyone wanting to spend a day exploring; I highly recommend it.

A caravan in search of camp; we were all more than a little tired.​

From Ubehebe Crater, we headed south on Racetrack Valley Road in search of camp. With just over an hour until sunset, we kept the skinny pedals pressed firmly down - hoping to cover the 30 miles or so as quickly as possible, so we'd reach camp with a bit of daylight still remaining.

In the late afternoon light, and with dry roads, we weren't sneaking up on anyone; billowing trails of dust, announcing our presence.​

Zane found some of the ash that had been flung from Ubehebe or one of its brethren.​

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As we made our way south, Joshua Trees began to dot the landscape. This trip was Monte's introduction to the strange Seussian shapes, and I couldn't wait to show him the larger specimens I knew were coming later in the trip.

With almost no wind, the dust just hung in the air.​

Layers upon layers.​

After half an hour, we'd nearly reached the location I planned to find camp, and we stopped for a few minutes to admire the current collection at Teakettle Junction. A strange - yet somehow appropriate in the desert - place, we each poked around, pointing out this kettle or that one, noting the dates - the oldest of which was less than three weeks old - and laughing at some of the stickers.

If only someone had left some tea. Or water.​

I liked this kettle the most.​

Our path the following day would take us further down Racetrack Valley Road, but this evening we were turning left and heading into Hidden Valley via Lost Burro Gap. It was there - away from the hustle and bustle of the much more popular playa - that I knew we could find a nice, sheltered camp site. A place where we could all enjoy a nice campfire before turning in for a good night sleep.

This is the way.​

A few minutes later, off the side of the road, we were settled. For a while, our own routines kept us busy - deploying tents, setting up camp - though the conversation continued through it all. Eventually, Mike got to a point where his propane fire ring was ready to be set up, and I grabbed my 20lb bottle of propane to fire it up.

Then, I wandered off. Having been in this area before, I knew that not far away was the Lost Burro Mine. I wouldn't have much time to explore it this evening, but I hoped to catch it as sunset lit the sky around the hillsides it inhabited. And - as it turns out, and perhaps surprisingly - that's exactly what happened!

The Lost Burro Mine Camp cabin, still standing but a little worse for wear.​

Sunset from the Lost Burro Mine.​

With light fading fast, I made my way back down through the hills and along the road to camp. The fire was burning bright as I arrived - the time now just after 5:00pm - as it would for the next 5 hours as we sat around catching up on the last 14 months. Even though we were all tired - some of us with less than 4 hours sleep in the prior 48 hours - none of us really wanted to go to bed. There was too much to say, too many jokes to tell, too much fun to be had.

But eventually it was time. Luckily for us, this was just the beginning. The beginning of a trip that would end unexpectedly... but not before more memories would be made.

 

ya dun goofed

 

and he left my license plate in a photo...tsk..hahaha

 

Boy, tough crowd.

Thx, fixed.

Your own damn fault. You have a cover. (fixed)

 

I know. but come on. I had like 6 hours of sleep over 3 days haha

 

Well on the bright side we know the backend of his website is super anal now...

 

I don't have anything productive to contribute, not a trip report kinda dude, but here's a couple pictures so it's not a total bust on my end haha.

 

I haven't even looked at mine yet.

 

With a week of snow, I'm surprised. Though, you did have that diff to fix.

Speaking of fixes, my new transfer case seems to work (at least to back out of the garage and install some new seats). So yeah, productive cold days for me, hahaha!

 

Buzzed by a C-17 Transport - Back for More #2
Part of the Back for More (Dec 2021) trip.

We were all pretty tired after our long drives south, so once we finally headed to bed - some six hours or so after firing up Mike @Digiratus propane fire ring - I think we all slept quite well through the night; our little spot in Hidden Valley out of the way enough that no one passed by while we were there.

As usual, I set my alarm for too-early-o'clock in the morning and made my way back up and into the Lost Burro Mine site to capture the color as it crept into the sky. It would be our only real sunrise of the trip - other mornings being overcast or our camp sites limiting the views to the east, so I really enjoyed the sunrise this morning.

The most saturated colors are before the sun ever breaks the horizon.​

I would later tell the rest of the crew, "I've never followed that road before."​

Looking light a beautiful day; blue skies and not too hazy.​

The light on the spokes of this belt-driven wheel caught my eye as I poked around the old mill at the Lost Burro Mine.​

Just before the sun crested the horizon, light pinks filled the sky behind the mill.​

After poking around, I headed back to camp for a bit - to make sure that Monte @Blackdawg, Zane @Speedytech7, and Mike were all making their way out of bed - and poured myself a big bowl of cereal as I watched the sun creep quickly over the horizon. I don't know why, but both the sun and moon always seems to move faster when in their first few - and final - minutes, probably just due to the frame of reference that the foreground provides.

After finishing breakfast and packing up camp, it looked like I'd have a few more minutes, so I was right back to the mine site to poke around with a bit more light. Zane - always the first ready to go - also looked around a bit while the rest of camp was stowed by our companions.

The old cabin, slowly deteriorating over time; now supported by diagonal bracing.​

An original chair, or one brought by a more recent visitor?​

A dugout, originally used for cool storage.​

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Up the hillside a way, I found an old shaft that I didn't recall being open the last time I'd visited the Lost Burro Mine.​

A maze of passageways; none too deep.​

Zane and I didn't linger long - Mike and Monte weren't that far from being packed, and we had enough ground to cover that I'd already forced everyone out of bed earlier than they'd have preferred - before heading back to camp. There, we found Mike ready to go, and Monte on his back under his truck. As is often the case, he'd been working feverishly on his rig prior to departure, and though he assured us that he'd tightened the bolts securing the gas tank skid, it was hanging by fewer than half when it'd been noticed by Zane.

Need a little room to work under a truck? You too can own a one-post rock lift.​

Looks factory. (To be fair, this fix held the entire trip.)​

A couple of seriously-beefy-zip ties later, and we were ready to roll out of camp and into the morning sun; it was 8:50am. Early compared to our usual trips, but a little later than I'd hoped to leave given the 10 hours of light we were limited to each day.

There's that road again. The one I've never been on. Will need to change that ASAP (but not this trip).​

We made good time through Lost Burro Gap as we headed towards Teakettle Junction, the amazing geology of Death Valley reminding us once again why we were here.​

There was no hiding where we'd come from, extremely light winds failing to clear much of the dust - even as we spaced ourselves out along the road.​

Ten miles and only twenty minutes later, we were at all parked again - this time at the north end of The Racetrack Playa. A curious dry lake - almost a perfect oval in shape - the playa resembles the course for which it was named. The illusion is heightened by the fact that an extraordinary rock formation near it appears to be a grandstand for spectators, though thankfully no vehicles are permitted on its nearly level surface.

Our first excursion onto the smooth surface.​

Walking out onto the playa - whether you've done it before, or it is your first time - is always a surreal experience. Distances here - as they are throughout the park - are deceiving, and with only two inches of elevation change over the entire length of the playa, it seems that you could walk forever and never make any progress. Eventually of course, you do - and before long we craned our necks at The Grandstand, as it rose up out of the silty surface.

Mike, contemplating the 73-foot-high outcrop of bedrock.​

Scale.​

It was fun to watch how everyone approached the rocky outcropping. Zane and Monte went straight to the top - in search of the view from high ground; Mike started a trek around - perhaps curious to capture the rock from various angles; I headed out towards the center of the playa before joining Zane and Monte - hoping to capture the big picture but knowing that it's nearly impossible to do.

King of the hill.​

A solitary stroll.​

Walking around The Grandstand doesn't take nearly as long as one might imagine, and as Mike rounded the far end, we all climbed down to meet him out on the cracked surface of the playa. Like an endless tray of perfectly-cooked brownies, the playa stretched into the distance, each of the cracks connecting to the next, on into infinity.

Looking south.​

As the surface dries, it first cracks along several large lines. Each section then cracks further. Smaller sections continue cracking as the mud dries, resulting in one of the coolest fractal patterns I've ever seen.​

Our exploration of the north end of the playa complete, I let it slip - not that I was keeping it a secret - that we were headed to the southern end of the playa in search of the sailing stones. We'd be driving of course, given that it was a couple miles away - or infinitely far if one attempted to walk over the outstretched playa.

Racing along the Racetrack.​

For a long time, it was unknown how these rocks moved across the surface. It turns out that they are pushed by wind when The Racetrack is slick with ice, and the trails left by these rocks are eerie. They move in different directions, sometimes 180° to each other, and often with curves in their path.

Where are you going little rock?​

Over the course of the next half hour, we wandered - sometimes together, sometimes alone - from rock to rock, each of us discovering the trails and capturing them in our own ways. And, as seems to happen, we eventually all found ourselves together - talking of what we'd seen; looking forward to where we'd go.

And where we'd go was Lippincott Pass. It was 10:45am when we pulled up to the warning sign, and I gave my usual speech: it'd be the most technical trail we'd done so far, but technical was probably a bit of an exaggeration. Lippincott - I've always felt - is more like a bumpy forest service road, especially when headed downhill.

Who needs tow service when you are your own tow service? ​

All morning we'd heard jets passing by overhead. As we chatted at the top of Lippincott, Mike happened to look up and catch an F-117 as it streaked north!​

I was pretty jazzed to see the F-117, as I've seen plenty of F-18 and F-15s, but never a wedge-shaped silhouette roaring across the sky. And so, a smile on our faces, we started down the pass.

The best part of Lippincott Pass - in my opinion - isn't the road itself, but are the views of Saline Valley that open up as you make your way down the trail. There are few really nice spots to get out an enjoy these views, and we certainly did.

The almost complete lack of wind made for one of the clearest days I've experienced in Death Valley, and for spectacular views.​

Back to our trucks, and the windy road out of the mountains.​

I always love the red on these barrel cactus. And, peering in past the tangle of spikes, I'm always surprised by the bright green!​

Switchbacks and short rocky sections continued as we descended toward the southern end of Saline Valley, and everyone had a great time as we made our way to the valley below. It was here - perhaps more than anywhere else so far - that I realized how much I like to be the last truck in the group rather than the first - stopping frequently for photos, never in any sort of rush to stay out ahead.

Although, with all the dust this time, being out ahead had its advantages as well!

New views around every corner.​

A few rocks here and there added a bit of interest, but no real difficulty for any of our vehicles.​

Lippincott Pass Road drops just over 2,000 feet in just under 5 miles, helped by a series of switchbacks that follow the folds of the Last Chance Range.​

My routes have always meant that I've run Lippincott Pass in a downhill direction; eventually, I'd like to drive up, so I approach this cool old National Monument sign from the "correct" direction.​

Nearing the bottom.​

By the time we reached the bottom and traversed the valley floor on one of the worst sections of road in the park - a straight shot full of football-sized rocks - we were all starting to get a bit hungry. Hoping that the winds remained calm and that we'd get a nicer view, I suggested that we stop in 45 minutes or so, eating lunch at South Pass, overlooking the north end of Panamint Valley.

Zane and his nearly-stock Land Cruiser had the most comfortable ride of the group as we climbed South Pass.​

We never made it that 45 minutes - at least, not uneventfully. It was just as we were exiting Saline Valley - and starting the climb toward South Pass - that I heard Mike over the radio, "Oh awesome, look at that!" I had no idea what he was talking about, but figured that it must have been something to do with his - or Monte's - truck. But then, I heard it - just as Monte exclaimed, "Holy shit!" - and seconds later, a C-17 Transport when tearing by overhead, less than 1,000 feet off the ground.


Buzzed by a C-17!

After seeing the F-117 Stealth Fighter earlier in the day, it was a huge treat to be buzzed by the transport, and something we all continued to talk about on our radios - hoping another would come flying through - as we covered the last several miles to the saddle at South Pass. There, with a fantastic view of the Panamint Valley and dunes, we assembled sandwiches and pulled up our chairs in the shelter of Zane's truck - the wind at the saddle just enough to add a bit of a chill - to fill our bellies with food and partake in the good company of our friends.

Lunch with a view.​

It was a little after 1:15pm when we finally wrapped up lunch and got back onto the trail. In that time, several cars had passed us there on the saddle, all of them headed up Hunter Mountain, none of them paying any attention to the sign warning of waist deep silt and the handful cars that had been rescued over the course of 2021. Hopefully, none of them would suffer a similar fate.

We, on the other hand, were headed the opposite direction - southwest and then south on Saline Valley Road, first to Lee Flat, and ultimately to Panamint Valley, some 4,500' below where we'd eaten lunch. I was looking forward to this section of trail because Monte had mentioned seeing his first Joshua Trees as he made his way south from Montana, and Lee Flat has some of the nicest specimens in the park.

Dramatic Joshua Trees under overcast skies.​

Though we could have done with fewer clouds, the wind that blew them over the landscape was a welcome change.​

Joshua trees are relatively fast growers, with new trees growing as fast as 3 inches per year during their first 10 years, then slowing to about half that rate - 1.5 inches per year - after that. As the trunk consists of thousands of small fibers rather than annual growth rings, age determination can be difficult, but they tend to live for hundreds to more than a thousand years old, the tallest trees reaching nearly 50 feet in height.

An ancient specimen.​

The afternoon getting on - and with fewer than three hours of daylight left - we didn't linger long on Lee Flat, opting instead to press our skinny pedals a few more miles to a funky little cabin just off the side of the main road. Known as the Boxcar cabin, it wasn't ever actually a box car, but its long narrow shape surely contributes to its name. Being our first cabin of the trip, we all hopped out to take a closer look.

One of several "Friends of the..." cabins sprinkled throughout the park.​

A welcoming entrance, cognizant of the surrounding vegetation.​

Inside, the cabin was well appointed. A radio, board games, and plenty of reading material to keep any visitors occupied for the duration of their stay.​

Beautiful painted glass rendition of the cabin.​

The cabin explored, we didn't stop again until we reached the first of two fuel stops we had planned for the trip - at Panamint Springs Resort. Fuel prices here - as always - were costly, but without much choice, we all filled up our tanks and continued south toward camp.

While it may be costly, I'm extremely glad that PSR has remained in operation through the difficulties presented by Covid-19.​

Still a couple bucks cheaper than fuel in Furnace Creek!​

Patiently waiting.​

I'd planned for us to camp on a road I'd noticed winding into the Panamint Mountains on my previous trip to the park; at a little over 7,000', it would be our highest elevation camp of the trip. With the sun setting, we had one final stop before setting up camp - a quick visit to the Charcoal Kilns.

Heading up Wildrose Road as the sun - hidden behind clouds most of the day - streamed underneath them an onto the fanglomerate formations that lined the road.​

The beehive-shaped kilns are always a sight to behold.​

Built in 1877, these kilns supplied fuel for the Modoc mine smelter located 25 miles to the west - a location we'd visited as part of our retracing of the Nadeau Trail almost exactly one year earlier. Each kiln would be loaded with up to 35 cords of wood from the surrounding forests and then lighted. Then, the wood was allowed to burn slowly for at least a week until it turned to charcoal. This charcoal was then shipped to nearby smelters where it would burn hotter and more slowly than wood, powering boilers and smelters that rarely made a return on their investment. It was for this reason - plus the fact that the kilns appetite for wood quickly devastated the surrounding pinyon pine forest - that the kilns operated for less than three years, shutting down in 1890. By that point, the Modoc Mine - which they had supplied - was one of the most successful in the region, delivering more than $1.9M in silver to its owners.

The vents along the lower wall allowed air to flow through the kiln, cooking the wood into charcoal.​

On a day I thought we'd be to camp early, our trucks were still lined up at the kilns three minutes after sunset.​

Though we were later than I thought we'd be, camp was only a few minutes away, and before long we were all set up with a nice view to the west and plenty of shelter for the cool night ahead. We'd covered a lot of ground - just over 100 miles, through three valleys - and we were well positioned for the next day - a day that I hoped would be a highlight of our trip!

Little did we know - while it would surely be a highlight, it would also signal the beginning of the end.

Light fading from the sky, we'd soon find ourselves seated around a propane campfire - chatting with good friends - late into the night.​

 

Those gas prices… just passed through Jawbone Canyon and it was 6.19/gallon. Gas prices in CA are just mind boggling. Haven’t seen under 4 bucks in a year plus.

Awesome trip report, as usual. I have just one question. Where do you find the time to do all this traveling??

 

retirement is a beautiful thing...

 

Too bad we'll never get there eh? *Laughs in millennial*

 

One can always dream..

 

I have some optimism we’ll get there… just very old, and gasoline probably won’t exist.

We could do a pool or something for the next Powerball. That’ll work. Please tell me it will work.

 

We had a fun Convo about this very subject where this part of the trip that you just read had us camping for the night... It ended sardonically. With any luck retirement will be something I have to worry about...

 

Maybe @turbodb can just adopt us all. That would be cool.

Or just hang onto that sick LC until new Taco’s are going for 75k. Then sell the LC for a super inflated price and retire to a wooden shack in the wilderness.

 

Beginning of the End - Back for More #3
Part of the Back for More (Dec 2021) trip.

I think the night we spent in the Panamints was the most peaceful of the trip. Sheltered from the wind, our high elevation resulted in cool temps - always better for sleeping in my book... to an extent, anyway.

Having arrived at dusk the night before, none of us had a chance to look around our camp site before it was too dark to really see anything. So, though it was cloudy, I was up and looking around relatively early the next morning.

Mike found a spot on what appeared to be an old garage pad. Certainly was level!​

As with the previous day, it was just before 9:00am when we rolled out of camp. Headed down ******** Canyon, a family of burros greeted - and then trotted along beside - us as we descended to the main road.

Today's residents, sporting their long winter coats.​

A little further along, this S-shaped rock formation caught my eye. At first, I didn't even notice the cavern below...​

Further investigation revealed a shallow mine shaft underneath. Apparently, years ago, someone else found this same spot intriguing!​

From ******** Canyon Road, we headed south, Hugging the base of the Panamint Mountains along the east side of Panamint Valley, we covered the 15 miles to Ballarat in a little over half an hour. Once again, dust was our enemy, forcing everyone but me to slow down and hang back. Even so, there were several sections where I heard Mike on the radio letting us know that visibility was near zero as he felt his way along the road.

The Ballarat Jail. Built in 1898, it's always been first come, first served . Today however, a weary traveler can call it home for an evening, assuming no one else has claimed it.​

An old ore cart - one of several period pieces scattered around Ballarat.​

Ready. To. Go. (Looks like a fun drive!)​

I was very much looking forward to the next portion of the trip. As the organizer - and person most familiar with Death Valley - nearly everything on our route was somewhere I'd already been on a previous trip - after-all, I didn't want to bore my good buddies to death with something mediocre. However, the route up Pleasant Canyon to Rogers Pass - and then back down to Panamint Valley via Middle and Lower Parks - was new to all of us, and that got me excited.

Excited, and a bit worried, since I wasn't really sure how long this 30-mile loop would take, and it was already 10:00am!

An unknown route into the Panamints.​

Up we go.​

Entering Pleasant Canyon.​

Initially, the route up the canyon was alternately choked by brush and bordered by rocky canyon walls. Unusual for the desert landscape we were exploring, Pleasant Canyon has persistent springs at several spots up the canyon. These help to keep water flowing all year round and were certainly advantageous to the mines that once worked the nearby hillsides - remnants of which we stopped to peruse along the side of the road.

Tunnel vision heading up Pleasant Canyon.​

This old grader - its bright paint still gleaming under cloudy skies - had been out of service for quite some time. Interestingly, Zane pointed out that it could be run on both gasoline - easier to start in cold conditions, and diesel - a more cost-efficient fuel - using the same engine!​

An old dugout, with two, quarter-inch-thick steel doors - one that opened out, and another that opened in - was likely used to store explosives for a nearby mine.​

After making our way about halfway up the canyon - passing several spur roads that I'll have to go back and investigate in the future, as it seems I could explore for nearly a week in this area (!) - we found ourselves at a large mining site - the old Claire Camp gold mine.

We weren't, however, alone. Two guys in an ATV - and one more in a full-sized pickup - were at the site already, and I thought they were actively working the ground for gold. Hopping out of my truck, I approached them cautiously and asked if they were mining the area, and whether they would mind if we looked around. Turns out, they were there as contractors for the BLM, and rather than mining, they'd been hired to clean up the site as part of an ongoing restoration effort for the canyon. As such, they had no problem at all with us poking around, so we maneuvered our trucks to the side of the road and gave ourselves the nickel tour.

A set of three old stamps from the nearby mill.​

In 1896, Henry Ratcliff began working his Ratcliff mine in the hills above Pleasant Canyon and pulled approximately half a million dollars' worth of gold from the ground over a 5-year period. To achieve this, nearly 200 miners worked the mine and a town - complete with a Blacksmith, and assaying office -spring up in the narrow canyon. Ultimately, this was too large a population for such a small area, and the town was abandoned - along with Ballarat - in 1901 due to large gold strikes in Tonopah, Nevada. Subsequently, W.D. Claire - hence the name "Claire Camp" - bought the Ratcliff mine in 1930 and worked the tailings successfully bringing out another $60,000 in gold ore.

Monte looking over the now-stampless-mill sprawling up the hillside.​

Old boilers, once stoked 24-hours each day in order to produce the steam that would drive the mill.​

Loading platforms, used to dump gold-rich material into waiting trucks for transport out of the canyon.​

The camp was a strange mish-mash of old and sort-of-new. The mill, boilers, and much of the mine equipment clearly dated back to the original working of the site, but there were also newer RV trailers and a semi-refurbished cabin that must have been less than 50 years old. Our hope was that these newer items were what the BLM-hired cleaners were here to remove, and that the historic bits of the mine would remain for future visitors to admire.

An old cabin with new (vinyl) windows.​

Furniture, tucked away in a back room, awaiting the return of its owner.​

A reminder that the hard work of a mine wasn't limited to adult men. Entire families lived here, in these harsh conditions.​

After wandering around Claire Camp for half an hour, it was time to move on. We'd only scratched the surface - I knew that I could spend an entire day poking around these parts, exploring adits and admiring old structures - but the rest would have to wait for another time... we had lots more ground to cover before the day was done!

So, naturally, less than a mile up the road - we stopped again.

This time, it was a solitary cabin that caught my eye. Pulling into the parking area, it was clear that this one was still actively maintained, and we'd soon find that it was the cabin for the still-registered World Beater Mine. Yet another area to come explore in more detail on a future trip.

The World Beater Mine cabin, perched high in Pleasant Canyon and surrounded by claim markers.​

No room in the log book, but there was certainly an interesting story on the last page!​

It's not often I come across an active claim.​

The inside of the cabin was well maintained and clean. Power was provided by a solar panel on the roof, and heat from an old barrel stove in the center of the room.​

Maddog was a busy guy, as I've seen similar stoves bearing his mark at other cabins in the area.​

It was noon by the time we finally pulled out of the World Beater Mine, and I at this point I knew we had a time problem. The entirety of the road up Pleasant Canyon was 11.9 miles, but in two hours we still hadn't made it to the apex at Rogers Pass. With another 13.6 miles to go down Middle and Lower Parks, lunch to be eaten, and Goler Wash to be traversed before reaching camp - well, you can see where I'm going. We needed to get moving.

We didn't stop again until we reached Rogers Pass, and even then, we only stopped long enough to read the marker before moving on.​

It was chilly - and windy - up along the ridge. Though it was already after lunch time, we pushed onward in search of somewhere a little more sheltered to break out our camp chairs and sandwiches, to satisfy our hungry bellies. As we did, we were treated to some fantastic views of Butte Valley from a perspective that I've never seen before. For me, it was fun to look down on where we planned to camp for the evening - though it turns out that even I had no idea what we would go through to get there!

Butte Valley from the ridge to the northwest. Just above the Tacoma - and partly obscured by the ridgeline - the spectacular Striped Butte.​

Now headed back down, we passed through Middle Park - a large, "mountain meadow" if such a thing can exist in the desert - nestled high in the Panamints and dusty as could be. High speeds and good spacing meant we didn't spend long there before crossing into Lower Park and finding a place to pull out our chairs in the shelter of some pinyon pine.

Middle Park. A mountain meadow / desert playa; home to burros and dust.​

Monte had fallen behind - the views down to Butte Valley from the ridge delaying his race across the valley. Nothing a little skinny pedal couldn't fix, his trail of dust growing by the foot.​

In Lower Park - as was the case on the entirety of this route - there was more to explore than we had time for on this blustery day. A reason to return.​

Near the yellow generator, a large mine shaft reached into the hillside; one of several in near what used to be a relatively large camp.​

It was 1:00pm when we finally stopped for lunch, with a view of Lower Park stretching out before us. We ate quickly - or more quickly than normal - as I related the remainder of the trail we had in front of us to the rest of the guys. I suspected that we'd mostly speed back down the mountains to Panamint Valley. A little further south, we'd head back into the same range - stopping as we could at a few mine sites and the Barker Ranch - on our way to camp in Butte Valley. We'd arrive, hopefully, just before dark.

None of us realized at the time, but the next three hours would most definitely not go as planned; they would in fact spell the beginning of the end.

"Looks like it's raining down there in Panamint Valley," I said as we continued entered the canyon that would soon deliver us into the wet weather.​

At the top of the canyon is this particularly beautiful growth of … I don’t know, some sort of plant. But it looked like it belonged in a fairy tale, lining the road to the witch’s house. -Mike @mk5​

We all thoroughly enjoyed this little tunnel.​

A big part of the reason we'd run this trail was because I'd read through one of Mike's trip reports where he mentioned a section of trail that was once a sketchy wooden bridge but had recently been replaced by the BLM. Even if it wasn't nearly as dangerous as it once was, seeing this section of road seemed like it was a worthwhile activity, and as we turned a corner to a rocky, shelfy area, I wondered if we'd come upon the spot.

I was first through, the trail seemingly more interesting from the driver seat than it was in the photo.​

Zane breezed right through, though the Land Cruiser always looks a bit top heavy to me with the tent perched on top.​

Mike took a slightly different line, one that was a bit more photogenic.​

It turns out that this wasn't the section that I was thinking of, and so we continued down to the only part of the trail where I hopped out of the truck in order to walk the trail before driving. A spot where the road narrowed, and a shelf on the up-hill side suggested an off-camber turn with a hundred-foot vertical drop off the passenger side.

And this is where I made a mistake. It looked to me that a 1st gen Tacoma - one of the narrowest vehicles on the road - could just squeeze through the turn on the downhill side of the ledge, avoiding the off-camber section. So I started into the turn, waving off any spotting from my buddies behind.

Smarter than me - or perhaps just hoping to snap some photos - Monte hopped out of his truck anyway, and as I inched forward, I suddenly heard him yelling to turn my wheel hard driver. "You're going to drive off the side of the road," he yelled as I stopped the truck.

Well, then, that wouldn't have been good.

Doesn't look too close to me... But then, I'm probably only alive thanks to Monte.​

Definitely the wrong line.​

Ultimately - with a bit of maneuvering, I was able to get the truck onto the correct line, and squeaked through unscathed. Barely. While this could have been the beginning of the end, it wasn't. Not yet.

Next up, Mike made the whole thing look easy as the Redhead flexed in all the right ways.

Mike kept his driver tire on the uphill ledge, right where it was supposed to be.​

And then eased down, the IFS nearly rendering the off-camber section of trail, level.​

Getting a bit flexy and looking sexy.​

Having provided all the drama we needed, the remainder of the trail was completely uneventful, and a few hundred feet beyond the turn was the metal-reinforced ledge that was apparently once a wooden bridge.

The skies were getting darker and drops of water were falling from the sky by the time we reached the narrow ledge that was once a wooden bridge.​

Descending into the narrows, this trail became a bit reminiscent of Titus Canyon as we wound through the colorful geology.​

As the rain picked up and daylight ticked away, we refrained from stopping much at all on the way down.​

Finally, we exited the mouth of the canyon and were deposited onto the wrinkled alluvial fan. The views here must be spectacular on a clear day, but it was hard to complain about the rare experience we encountered - rain storms coursing through the valley below.

It's not often that one sees water falling - and pooling - on the floor of Panamint Valley.​

Every once in a while, it's wet in Death Valley. This storm would drop upwards of an inch - nearly a third of the annual allocation for this part of the world.​

By the time we reached the valley floor and headed south toward Goler Wash, it was 2:45pm in the afternoon. With less than two hours of daylight left - and 15 miles of rocky trail, with numerous mines and places to explore before camp - I knew we'd be rushing a bit more than ideal.

Eight miles further south, we'd driven out of the rain by the time we pushed into into Goler wash.​

Heading up the wash, I pointed out various rock formations, interesting spur roads, and abandoned old mines I'd hoped to explore. Light fading fast, we pushed on past each of them, radio chatter assuring me that it was OK - just another good reason to return in the future. It made me think back to my first time at the park - when I'd travelled a similar route with similar constraints. Less than a month later, I'd come back - to spend nearly an entire day in this canyon. It was a good reminder that rushing through Death Valley is a common mistake!

The main house at the Barker Ranch, which burned to the ground in 2009.​

The Barker Ranch - built in 1940 by Bulch and Helen Thomason was originally used to support their mine in the area. It was later acquired by James and Arline Barker in 1955. Working nearby gold and uranium mines through the 1960s, the ranch was also a seasonal vacation property for their families.

It wasn't until 1968 that Charles Manson learned about the ranch and began staying there with the Family. Eventually, suspected of vandalism further north in Death Valley National Monument, the group was captured in raids on October 10 and 12, 1969, with Manson himself caught hiding under the kitchen sink. At the time of their arrest, law enforcement was unaware unaware that they had captured a mass-murder and his followers.

A secondary living structure at the ranch.​

Having completed our only stop between Panamint and Butte Valley, we pushed forward over Mengal Pass and into the valley we'd call home for the night. Our route winding its way north, the rain had picked up again by the time we reached the final descent into Butte Valley, and we mostly remained in the trucks through the roughest - and most fun - sections of the trail.

Headed east, Mike winds his way up the west side of Mengal Pass.​

This rocky descent into Butte Valley is always a fun one - in both directions.​

Even in the stormy weather, Striped Butte is such a striking landmark. After three years away, I was happy to see it once again.​

It was during the final descent that I first heard a strange noise coming from what I thought was my transfer case. Hoping I was wrong, it seemed intermittent in 4-Lo, and sounded - to me - like grinding.

Letting the guys know that I needed to check out a noise, I crawled under the truck, hoping to find a loose bolt and a flopping skid plate as I have in the past; unfortunately, everything was tight. And, by the time I climbed back out from under the truck, all three of my buddies were standing by - ready to lend a hand with whatever the problem might be.

The consensus - based on my description and from guys who knew more than me - was that either one of the planetary gears in the doubler portion of the transfer case might have lost a tooth or that the j-shift bushing was worn out and so the shifter was rattling around in the case. And, while either of these could eventually cause a problem, it would probably be OK to continue for the remainder of the trip.

I hoped they were right, and we rolled onward toward camp - a little spot that both Zane and I had camped previously; a spot that - assuming the rain stopped - I knew would be the perfect place to wake up in the morning.

Once we arrived in camp and got our tents deployed, Monte set about working on his fridge, which he'd discovered wasn't working at lunch.​

For the second night in a row, we arrived in camp after sunset. Luckily, the rain mostly stopped about an hour or so after we got set up, and we were able to enjoy the propane fire ring for the remainder of the evening. Plus, about 90 minutes into working on his fridge - having tried new fuses, tightening of screws, and reseating of terminals - Monte figured out the problem: he'd had the fridge turned off!

Another fabulous night in the desert.​

If only the solution/situation had been the same for my transfer case - alas however, as I'd discover in the coming hours, it really was... the beginning of the end.