AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

Hardest Hike Ever | Panamint City #1
Part of the Panamint City via Surprise Canyon (Nov 2022) trip.

For more than a year I've been trying to get to Panamint City. Despite requiring a 7.2-mile (one way) hike with more than 5,000 feet of elevation gain, trekking to-and-from this ghost town high on the western slopes of the Panamint Mountains isn't the issue. Rather, the problem presents itself once one has arrived: there is so much to explore - more than 10 miles of trail and another 5,000 feet of elevation - that there is no way to accomplish the round-trip in a single day. At least, not for this human.

And this is where I should share something that may not be obvious given my love for hiking: I, personally, hate hiking with a pack on my shoulders. It's uncomfortable - both while hiking and after - and so rarely do I embark on any journey carrying more than a day pack that rests on my hips.

Still, the draw of Panamint City was so great that early one morning I found myself camped at the mouth of Surprise Canyon on the edge of Panamint Valley as the sky turned pink and the Argus Range was illuminated by the early morning rays. So far, a successful trip.

Having arrived late the previous evening, I'd setup camp in the dark, hoping for a nice view in the morning.​

I tried to ignore the dusting of snow at the top of the Argus Range; I was headed to even higher elevations.​

Tent stowed, I was out of camp a few minutes after sunrise, driving the final mile or so to the end of the road at Chris Wicht Camp. Naturally, even this last mile was too much for me to accomplish without stopping for photos, my hiking departure delayed by both fall colors and investigation of the old mining camp.

The cottonwoods at the mouth of surprise canyon were in a celebratory mood.​

​

Modern art or an old mill?​

When you really like pancakes, you set the griddle right into the concrete stove.​

Rocky's mark still graces the foundation of the flagpole.​

Surprise Canyon

After poking around - procrastinating mostly - and knowing it would be a love-hate journey, I gathered up a thin Thermarest, @mrs.turbodb's small down sleeping bag, and a few snacks, before setting out on what would be one the most enjoyable experiences I've had in Death Valley. And also, one of the worst nights of my life.

In the end, I hauled about 25lbs of gear, spread across my hips and shoulders​

Only a few steps into the narrows of Surprise Canyon, and I was hooked.​

Even without the prize of Panamint City at the top of the canyon, hiking the first mile - through the narrows - is an otherworldly experience. Many start by hiking alongside the gurgling stream, doing their best to keep their feet dry. Eventually, as the canyon narrows, the distinction between trail and creek is lost; dry feet are an impossibility. On a warm day I can imagine this being quite pleasant, but with temps in the 40s °F, it was an eventuality I'd planned for by wearing my Muck boots on this first leg of the journey. From the get-go, I happily sloshed my way upstream, my head on a swivel as I admired the faceted walls reaching toward the sky.

Contrasting colors, all the way up.​

A blazing green, hydrated by a spirited stream.​

A multi-generational family of barrel cactus, watching the few who venture this way.​

An old mine car and several overturned vehicles now stranded in the wash, evidence of the powerful floods that periodically rush through this canyon.​

Fancy.​

Today, thankfully, the only way through Surprise Canyon is on foot, as I can only imagine the chaos and destruction that a group of Insta-landing UTVers would wreak on the beauty of this magical place.

Here and there, anchors points - for winching - were drilled into the walls.​

Human stupidity has no limit. 1997​

I've experienced few places in my adventures that offer as striking a combination of rock, running water, and lush vegetation as the narrows of Surprise Canyon. At times, the vertical walls - a solid white aplite nearly one billion years old - seemed to reflect as bright as new snow.

Seven waterfalls grace the tightest section of narrows, the water sliding down grooved chutes, gushing over bedrock lips, and foaming from one shin-deep hole to another. Here, every surface was polished; I was walking through a gallery of gigantic proportions.

At one spot, a dark brown dike of diabase shoots straight down from the canyon rim - a waterfall of stone in through an otherwise immaculate landscape.​

As if to compliment the stone, a cascade rushed through maidenhair ferns below.​

A flowing red tongue.​

Two miles from the trailhead, Limekiln Spring - hidden by a grapevine nearly covering the north side of the canyon - sends hundreds of gallons of water a minute downstream.​

It was here - just after the spring - that I ditched my Muck boots in favor of some much lighter and more breathable tennis shoes that I'd been carrying to this point. From here, the canyon would get wider - and drier - as I climbed the final 5.5 miles to Panamint City.

I hoped a few rocks would both camouflage my boots and keep any local riff-raff from using them as shelter.​

It was amazing how much lighter my legs were once my footwear changed. For the next five minutes, I felt like I could go anywhere, could do anything, could conquer the world. Ten minutes after that, I was back to normal, the constant upward trajectory of the canyon - coupled with the load on my shoulders - reminding me how much I prefer a long day hike to anything that requires me to bring sleeping arrangements.

Luckily for me, as long as I kept putting one foot in front of the other, there was plenty to keep me distracted.

The first of dozens of rock foundations that once served Panamint City. Likely some sort of way station, this far down canyon.​

Never forget to look up!​

Much of the canyon was deep enough that - at this time of year - it never saw direct sunlight. This turned out to be a good thing, as the 60°F temperature was perfect for hiking.​

The trail - continuously working its way from one side of the broad canyon to the other - forked and rejoined itself time after time, the result of each traveler choosing their own path of least resistance. Here and there my decisions were proven correct; every now and then, not. Through it all, I kept thinking about those who'd come before me - how much work it must have been to get all of their equipment and supplies through this inhospitable terrain.

As I reached 4700', I ran into the first beavertail cactus - that I noticed - on the trail.​

Well, hello there.
This little guy was looking very emaciated and weak; he didn't even have enough energy to rattle. I moved him off the trail to protect him from other hikers who might be less favorable to his predicament and continued on my way.​

Just under two miles to go!​

A little more than three-quarters of a mile before town, between the canyon walls, I spotted the improbably tall smokestack of Panamint City's smelter. It was a welcome landmark - one that I'd anticipated even before I'd embarked on this adventure - and almost immediately I could feel the adrenaline kick in.

The fun is about to begin.​

Something momentous took place here.​

High on the hillside, the mill of the Wyoming Mine... and plenty of snow.​

It was a few minutes before 3:00pm; it'd taken me two hours longer to climb the 5,000 feet to Panamint City than I'd envisioned when I set out on the 7.2-mile trek. As such, I had only about 90 minutes of daylight remaining, and I realized that I'd need to use my time wisely if I was going to be able to see everything I'd mapped out from my computer at home.

And so - as much as it pained me to do - I turned away from the chimney that urges visitors the last mile to town; it was time to explore Sourdough Canyon, The Castle, and Stewart's Wonder Mine.

Sourdough Canyon, The Castle, and Stewart's Wonder Mine

Sourdough Canyon - a side canyon leading north - empties into Surprise Canyon about three-quarters of a mile before Panamint City. Rather than hike to the town center and back again, the more expedient option was to drop my pack and investigate this area before heading into town.

It was so nice to take the weight off my shoulders as I headed towards the unknown.​

I'd noticed a cabin a few hundred feet up the canyon as I'd inspected satellite imagery prior to departure, but I wasn't prepared for the camp - locally known as The Castle - that I ultimately walked into.

Worked in the 1960s, the equipment at this camp was more modern than that in many Death Valley locations. Six-wheel drive dump trucks (some sans beds), bulldozers, and numerous semi-modern powertrains littered the hillside.

Still air in some of the tires.​

A serious drive train.​

What is this beast?​

Still looked ready for an honest day's work.​

The mill - across the road from the Castle - was still in good condition, if rather unconventional. Located on a small hill, it was a small scale operation, with colorful blue-green quartz ore loaded onto a conveyor at the top via a stationary backhoe. From there, the entire apparatus was powered by a sketchily-wired generator, sending the ore down a chute to the tumbler, where it was pulverized before being concentrated for shipment down the canyon.

The yellow mill at The Castle.​

There was a ton - or rather, several tons - of amazingly colorful ore strewn about.​

After poking around the work area for a bit, I finally headed over to the cabin. The Castle (a modern name, given by those who maintain it) was more than I could have expected. In fact, of all the structures in the area, this was the most impressive (to me) and was the one I spent the most time enjoying.

If only I were looking for accommodations.​

It didn't dawn on me until after I returned that this glass wasn't original. At the time of photographing it, I marveled in the typography of the old-time artisans. ​

Well-built and well-stocked.​

The interior was one of the cleanest I've seen, reminding me of the Geologist Cabin. This one - obviously - much harder to get (supplies) to!​

I found this to be a heartfelt and meaningful note to those who visit. It seems that a Boy Scout Troop (amongst others) has adopted and helped to fix up this place.​

Before leaving, a quick note that I was here. Apparently, dated a couple days after my actual visit.
#timeismeaninglessinthedesert​

Having spent less time than I wanted - but more than I really had given the time of day - I exited The Castle and made a beeline for Stewart's Wonder Mine. And here, it wasn't so much the mine that I was interested in, but the trail to the mine, the description of which was irresistible:

This trail really was a treat.​

Near the lower adit, I found what appeared to be the business end of a stamp from an old mill.​

Now inaccessible due to the road being washed out, old timbers still support the walls of the lower adit.​

​

Naturally, what "not to do," is the thing that I decided to try.​

Such a colorful vein, high on the ceiling. I can only imagine the miners climbing up the braces to work it!​

My exploration of the mine complete, it was now only a few minutes before sunset and I found myself nearly jogging back along the immaculately constructed trail towards Panamint City. Knowing I didn't have much time - but that the few minutes after sunset would be fabulous for photos - I once again postponed any exploration of the various cabins, instead choosing to focus on the smelter stack that I'd had to ignore an hour before.

Landmark.​

This towering smokestack - though only in operation for a single year - is the crown jewel of Panamint City. Built in 1875 of half a million bricks, it reaches 45-feet into the air, tapering from a massive square base to a finely ornate crown. Standing watch over the town like a timeless sentinel, it is a priceless landmark for any who visit to enjoy.

Into the sky, the color of which is a-changin'.​

As the sun set in the west, it was fun to watch the chimney silhouette against the contrasting sky.​

Too soon, I had to pull myself away. The sun below the horizon, temperatures were dropping quickly and I knew that I needed to figure out my sleeping arrangements for the night; arrangements that I'd only mostly made prior to starting up the canyon.

I say only mostly because while I'd brought along @mrs.turbodb's sleeping back and ¾" Thermarest - which I will share my opinion of in the next story - in order to keep the weight of my pack down, I hadn't brought along any sort of shelter. I'd considered sleeping under the stars, or in one of the cabins, but with temps forecast to be in the mid 20s °F and plenty of rodent droppings in the Panamint Hilton - the main cabin in town - I was beginning to feel like a tent might have been a better idea.

Hindsight is always so good.

Lady luck was smiling on me however, and high up on a shelf in the Panamint Hilton, I found a small tent that seemed clean and just large enough for me and my stuff. Finding a relatively clean and reasonably sheltered concrete slab in a nearby building, I proceeded to assemble - and then decorate - the torture chamber I'd call home for the night.

But that, dear reader, is another story.

As the stars rose, I couldn't help but return to the chimney for one final shot before retiring for the long, cold night.​

 

One day, I hope others will carry on the conversation of Death Valley and look to the volume of information the @turbodb's have amassed in the same way we look to the past for our information.

BTW, your handwriting is impeccable.

 

I'd met Rocky at Ballerat about 5 years ago, bought a beer from the "store". It was a cheap thrill to see his name in several places at Chris Wicht Camp. Couple of years ago (pre pandemic?) was back at Ballerat and was told Rocky was no longer the caretaker and had moved on.

 

Important edit to your note Kidding, if it wasn’t obvious

@turbodb that was a fantastic write up. Might be my favorite of yours so far. Can’t wait for the second half.

 

Thanks, glad you enjoyed it! I hope that I can participate in the Death Valley conversation as long as possible; I feel like I know so little compared to others.

First of all, .

Second of all, the second half is pretty good. Now. It (or at least, the beginning of it) sucked at the time.

 

These are some of the best photos you've taken. Great job

 

You're welcome. Many spend years and years to get to this point of artistry with a camera. For me, it just comes naturally. Now where did I leave that box of F-Stops?

 

My only time in Surprise Canyon was in winter a few years ago. Unfortunately after poking around Chris Wicht Camp for a while it was already 3pm or so … we had time to get through the (wet, icy, cold, overgrown) narrows up to about Brewery Spring and had to turn back before dark. I’m planning to head back in the next month or two, and give myself a full day but not stay overnight. I found scrambling up the falls, and slithering back down, tricky enough and wouldn’t want to be wearing a backpack.

 

I'm always looking forward to adventuretaco posts, but this time I'm mashing refresh here. The suspense is killing me... will this guy make it or not?

Either way: killer shot of that smokestack at night. Nailed the f stops on that one, bro!

 

I'm not sure, but I think when you get a camera deal at Costco (like me), the price is cheaper because they leave the box of f-stops out. I've never needed them, so I was glad to save a few bucks.

OK, so, you are of course welcome to do what you see fit, but here's my recommendation - if you're going up and back in the same day... make sure you do it when you have as much light as possible, and leave just before sunrise. There is SO much to see at the top (and so much more elevation once you get there) that one day would be really rough. In fact, I didn't know this before I set off on my misadventure, but Digonnet recommends four (4!) days for this trip (in another of his tomes that I didn't have with me this time).

Anyway, I think one night up there is a minumum, but if you're going to try for one day, here's how I'd do it, assuming 6am sunrise, 7:30pm sunset (so like late April, which I feel like is pretty late in the year temp-wise).

• 6am - set off
• 12pm - arrive at PC (you could cut this by an hour if you really book it up there and don't take photos/admire/eat along the way, I suppose
• 12-5 - explore around the area. You'll probably get to about 1/3 - 1/2 of "the main stuff" (town, and a mine or two)
• 5pm - head back down
• 7:30 - back at trailhead/vehicle - I was surprised how fast "down" was compared to "up."

That was a creepy-ass smokestack. I'm sitting there minding my own business and then all of a sudden, it's lit up. At first, I thought someone arrived late, but for 30 minutes the light never moved. WTF. Should I go look? I should, but...

Finally, I get up the gumption to check it out. Turns out to be just a little solar/battery landscaping light that someone has kindly setup to scare the beejeezus out of anyone who is already trying to survive in this super remote place with sub-freezing temperatures.

But yeah, next to the light was the box of f-stops that was left out of my Costco purchase. I didn't know how to use them, so the whole box is still there for the "next guy who nearly spoils the only pair of pants they brought along in order to save weight in their pack when the light comes on."

 

I have at least 3 hikes near me that are worse for you to do haha no mine at the end but unreal lakes and views.

 

You need to keep reading . I love the hikes. 20-mile days with a mile up are some of my favorites. It's the heavy backpack that sucks. Not even the backpack, really - if I could carry all the weight on my hips. It's the weight on the shoulders I don't like.

Seriously though, I think it'd be super cool to do one/some of your hikes as part of some trip. It could be a "down day" for those who want to hang around in camp. Just a suggestion.

 

that's pretty much the only way Devin will go on a longer trip. More hiking. So certainly a possibility to do a trip with more hikes.

And I guess I meant more so as in steeper grade hikes haha as in more difficult of a huff up that this thing. Regaurdless of the backpack.

 

I have day packs with waist belts. Not perfect but then you have th gear for a night out.

 

Man, I've got some DV and Cedar Mesa hikes that the four of us should go on. Steep, narrow, rocky scrambles all the way. I bet you guys would love them. Of course, the Cedar Mesa ones are caulk full of rock art and ruins as well. DV generally has something (mine/view/etc.) at the end.

This spring/summer better not end up like last year

 

no it will not. We are determined to not have a repeat of this year. Not building a house will help haha

But yeah, certainly should plan some hiking adventure. Devin would enjoy that a lot.

 

Yeah, I mean, I made do with my day pack (no waist belt, but it was sitting on my camelback wasit belt water/camera thingy) to carry what I needed. Just not my favorite. I guess I need a burro. At least in DV - I should be able to find one "on loan."

 

Can confirm.

But I do want to go back to that lake.

I assume you've tried better quality day packs than the one pictured above?

A good pack with a waist strap takes a lot of the weight off your shoulders.

 

Obviously not

I can make excuses all day - you know, like my waist pack that I use to carry my water bottles and camera equipment (far left in the photo) gets in the way of other waist straps on packs, etc. - but really I'm just enjoying complaining, hahaha. Just wait till the next part, where I'll complain about how I didn't have enough gear to keep me comfortable at night. Seriously, it's like win-win in the complain department. I couldn't have planned it better.

 

Oh wow, I assumed that was your lighting work! So... I guess I'll have to retract my compliment.

But yeah, that would definitely creep me out for a bit.

A couple years ago I was poking around in a mine alone, alone, at the end of some desolate road that seemingly hadn't been traveled in months. As one does. I saw a dim glow around a corner, so as I rounded it, I was expecting to find a shaft leading to daylight far above... Nope, it was a little LED keychain on the ground--the kind with a button cell that only stays on for a few hours. And it was on. Very quickly made my way towards the hell out of there.