AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

We Finally Return to Marble Canyon | Following Giants #1
Part of the Following Giants (Dec 2024) trip.

It was on the final night of our very first trip to Death Valley that we rushed through Cottonwood and Marble canyons, and we haven't been back since. It was largely the popularity of these places that kept me from returning, our preference to spend time in more remote places of the park outweighing the draw of narrows and rock art that Marble Canyon is known for.

Still, it was tough to ignore the description of Marble Canyon that constantly caught our attention in Digonnet's Hiking Death Valley, and when we found ourselves with an extra afternoon at the beginning of our trip, we decided that there would be no better opportunity to wander our way through the maze of narrows than this.

Marble Canyon is a long, varied, and imposing drainage. A dusty track leads to its periphery, circling Mesquite Flat to the lower canyon. From here lies nearly 11 miles of pristine canyon, and an even greater mileage of side canyons radiating like the veins on a leaf. This tentacular network holds many narrows, springs of wild rose and mountain mahogany, fossils, mines, historical inscriptions, and one of the region's largest collection of petroglyphs. The narrows and springs make wonderful goals for day hikes. But knowing this canyon well demands multiple visits and a generous gift of time.

Hiking Death Valley​

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It was midnight when we landed in Las Vegas. With nowhere open for provisioning, we zipped our way to the outskirts of Pahrump and quickly set up camp, climbing into bed a few minutes after 1:00am.

As the moon set a few hours later, we climbed down from the tent to start our first day.​

Provisioning in Pahrump worked fantastically better than we'd imagined. The Albertsons was even better than the one we frequent in Las Vegas, and some breakfast burritos - from Roberto's Taco Shop in Pahrump - hit the spot before we raced our way west towards the Death Valley Visitor Center at Furnace Creek.

Most dispersed camping in Death Valley is free, but two years ago the National Park Service (NPS) implemented a permit system for a few of the more popular canyons - Cottonwood, Marble, Echo, and Hole-in-the-Wall - in order to prevent overcrowding. Camping in these locations was still free, but required anyone who wanted a spot to stop by the visitor center during business hours on the same day in order to reserve a spot and fill out the paperwork for the permit.

It was extremely inconvenient given the size of the park and the (un)likelihood of being by Furnace Creek before it closed for the evening, but the stars happened to align on this particular trip, so when I walked up to the information counter at 10:30am and asked to reserve a site in Marble Canyon for the night, I was surprised to hear that permits were now $10/night, but with the convenience of being issued through recreation.gov up to a week in advance!

Unfortunately, one still must stop at the visitor center to pick up the permit itself, but being able to reserve them online is a huge step forward, and hopefully the first step towards a completely self-serve model that can be taken care of at any time and from anywhere in the park!

So close to convenient.​

After grabbing our permits, we made a quick stop to admire Mesquite Dunes.​

Working our way through deep sand towards the mouth of Cottonwood Canyon.​

Thrilled that the road from Stovepipe Wells to Cottonwood Canyon seemed to be much smoother than our first visit - when we'd felt it was perhaps the worst washboard we'd ever experienced - it was one minute after noon when the road surface transitioned from sand to rock, and we entered the wash.

Dwarfed.​

Popping out for a photo here turned out to be a lucky accident, and as I walked back to the Tacoma, I thought to myself, "This is the type of place where I'd expect to see some petroglyphs." A few seconds later - as my eyes scanned the polished rock walls - I found them.

Familiar shapes and patterns.


Not all - in fact, by now, not most - of the art was historical.​

After a few minutes of inspection, we continued onward toward the trailhead.​

With our designated camp site only a few hundred feet from the wilderness boundary that marks the start of the hike into Marble Canyon, we opted to park the Tacoma there and eat a quick lunch - we'd brought an extra breakfast burrito - before wandering our way up the canyon in search of the rock art that had eluded us on our last visit.

An inviting entrance.​

For the first mile or so, Marble Canyon is a colorful corridor, with high walls reminiscent of those in Titus Canyon. Massive strata shoot skyward at awkward angles to the distant rim, and thick limestone beds loaded with black inclusions (chert nodules) decorate the lower elevations. Walking towards the sun, we craned our necks through these first narrows, but - like the first time we visited - we never found the petroglyphs that hide in this tantalizing tapestry.

Working our way into the first narrows, I was thrilled to see pockets of shade, since the best canyon shots are those with little-to-no direct sunlight.​

Let the reflected light games begin.​

Limestone blackheads. (Technically, chert nodules.)​

Strata.​

Splashes of color pulled us around each bend.​

Geological boundary.​

So caught up were we in the oranges and blacks of the canyon walls, that the end of the first narrows - at a giant chockstone wedged between the narrow walls - caught us off guard. This quartz monzonite monster - a bit of Hunter Mountain, carried more than 20 miles by rushing water - was impassable, requiring us to backtrack a bit in order to find a bypass.

We had no idea that around this bend, we'd be stopped in our tracks.​

Canyon plug.​

The bypass around the chockstone turned out to be both simple and obvious once we realized it's necessity, but as we descended back into the wash toward the second set of narrows, we wondered how many people never realized that there was more to see, simply turning around when they couldn't continue up the winding wash. It was a mistake we likely might have made - not being experienced at the time - back when we first visited Marble Canyon.

Beginning as a narrow passage in gray dolomite, the second narrows were some of the most dramatic we've seen in the park. The leaning walls - polished high above the wash - fold and unfold into a smooth, contorted passage. Blues and grays dominate here, the cool colors accentuating a world closed off from light. Still, even in this mysteriously dim place, bright splashes of orange light the way.

Entering the second narrows.


Drawn toward the light.​

Cramped caverns.​

Towering walls.​

I loved how the orange strata offset the polished dolomite in places.​

Three angles through a single passage.


The narrowest of slots, polished smooth by the mountains of rock that have pushed their way past.​

In addition to the display put on by the canyon walls, the second narrows were where we spotted rock art for the first time. Most of what we found here was created not by Native American Indians, but by miners working this area in the early 1900s. Still, it was unfortunate to see that many of these same walls had the scratching's and pecking's of much more contemporary visitors, a reminder that it's each of our responsibility to be good stewards, and respectful of what we find as we explore our world.

A sierpinskys triangle, according to my hiking companion.​

When water is life.​

I really appreciated the penmanship and effort that C.D. Ruiz from Rhyolite put into his signature, on Oct. 13, 1906.​

We did not make fast progress through the second narrows, as every step seemed to present several new photo opportunities that I just couldn't pass up. Eventually however, the walls opened up and we emerged into the mid-canyon where a few nice exposures of fossilized shells dotted the wash.

Prehistoric sea creatures.​

It was here, too, that we found the bulk of the petroglyphs for which we'd originally set out in search of, and for which Marble Canyon is known.

These prehistoric figures, pecked on smooth rock surfaces centuries ago, are fairly common across the Southwest, but the sites found in Death Valley are generally smaller, perhaps a reflection of its harsher climate and lower prehistoric populations. Marble Canyon, however, was blessed with more petroglyph sites than most canyons in the park. Often reminiscent of the style of the Coso Range further west, Marble Canyon's petroglyphs are remarkably varied in subject matter, size, and level of detail. To anyone who enjoys searching every nook and cranny for rock art, this is a special place. There are beautiful figures to be found, from abstract drawings and pregnant bighorn sheep to lizards, desert foxes, human figures, and finely crafted birds. The antiquity of these figures covers centuries. While many of them are quite prominent, others are faint and much older.

Hiking Death Valley​

A large panel, high above the water line.​

Handy-man.​

Three desert lizards.​

Now keenly aware that we were running out of daylight - but still with a mile of canyon to cover before I wanted to turn back toward camp - I holstered the camera in order to make better time up the wash. Or at least, I holstered it momentarily.

This sandy ledge caught my eye as we raced toward our turnaround point.​

Goldbelt - some 7 miles beyond our current location - never produced much gold, but several generations of miners made discoveries there - first of gold and silver, then copper, tungsten and talc, and finally wollastonite. Each discovery triggered a flurry of activity, with the first lasting from 1904-1910 when Shorty Harris established a mining camp near the head of Marble Canyon, likely at Goldbelt Spring.

As usual, remoteness and the lack of capital stifled development and the area was quiet for a few years, until the war-induced increase in metal prices spurred renewed mining interest. In 1916 tungsten was discovered, again by Shorty Harris. By the next spring he had managed to ship out a few hundred pounds of tungsten ore worth about $1,500.

From the 1940s to the 1960s several small talc and other mineral claims were located and exploited, delivering more than 750 tons of ore by 1955, after which wollastonite - discovered in 1959 - was worked as late as 1976, the final mining activity in the area.

When we reached this rock, we were nearly ready to turn around.​

It was 3:45pm - three hours after we'd left, and 45 minutes before sunset - as we began to retrace the four miles we'd hiked into Marble Canyon. Hoping to turn the tide in our favor - or at least get back before it was pitch black - I once again put away the camera as we raced down the wash.

Back through a much darker second narrows.​

At least we weren't going to get lost.​

Ultimately, we made great time on the way down, and it was only a few minutes after 5:00pm when we strolled into camp. Tired from a lack of sleep the previous night, we quickly deployed the tent and made dinner before climbing into bed for a full 12 hours of shut eye.

The following morning...

My alarm woke us just before 6:30am and a few minutes before the sun would crest the horizon. Not that we would see it in camp, since our position - nestled into the folds of Marble Canyon - meant that shade would be the order of the morning. Still, only a few days from the winter solstice - thus, with only 10-hours of daylight each day - we knew every minute was precious if we were going to squeeze in some long hikes, so we quickly stowed the tent and polished off a bowl of Wheat Chex before firing up the Tacoma for the trip back to Stovepipe Wells.

If you're going to pay for dispersed camping, M4 is as good as it gets.​

Back through the narrows at the mouth of Cottonwood Canyon.​

We were making great time, the aired-down-to-17psi Kenda Klever RTs soaking up the uneven terrain and floating over the sand with ease, until I spotted a passenger vehicle in the road ahead of us.

Sure enough, as we rolled up on this Toyota Camry, it was clear that they'd spent a bit of time trying to get themselves unstuck, and then just walked their way back to Stovepipe Wells.​

Having made it to within 6 feet of the sign, the irony was thick.​

Luckily, 4wd and aired down tires made the process of driving around the Camry - even through the deep sand - a non-issue, and soon we were considering our options to hook up a tow strap and pull the car back toward Stovepipe Wells, clearing the road for other travelers.

Unfortunately, after a semi-thorough inspection of the rear end, it became clear that finding a tow point - or at least one where there was no risk of bending some seemingly lightweight component - was going to be a difficult, very sandy endeavor. Not comfortable tackling the situation without the consent of the owners, we pushed the skinny pedal and headed toward what would be the most difficult trek of our trip.

We were headed to the top of Tucki Mountain.

 

The Hike up Tucki is Sucky! | Following Giants #2
Part of the Following Giants (Dec 2024) trip.

Having enjoyed our peaceful evening in Marble Canyon, our next destination was another that I'd had on my To-Do list for quite some time. Back in 2021, we'd headed up Telephone Canyon to find a remote arch and a couple old mines. We'd driven all the way to the end of the road - or at least, as far as was legal - to a wilderness sign that designated the area beyond as "Foot and Horse Traffic Only," before turning back to spend the night at, and explore, the Tucki Mine.

It wasn't the wilderness sign - so much as what I could see beyond it - that caught my attention. There, a mile from the end of the road, a small cabin sat in a valley below the rolling folds of Tucki Mountain. Today, we'd finally have a chance to visit the cabin, explore the nearby workings, and wander our way 7 miles (roundtrip) to the top of Tucki Mountain.

It seemed like a reasonable plan - even with the relatively short days of mid-December - so we were in no real rush as we headed up Telephone Canyon

Entering Telephone Canyon is a roundabout affair, but the views of the Cottonwoods make it all worthwhile.​

Winding our way through the upper narrows.​

Reaching the end of the road, we gazed to the north where a rocky summit stood a little taller than the ridge around it. This - we thought - was the summit we were after. It was - we'd soon discover - much closer than our goal, and only the first of three false summits we would climb along the way.

VIP parking. Note: no different than peon parking.​

I've recently been worried about the power retention of my dual battery system - a discussion for another time - so after setting up the solar panels and stuffing everything we'd need into our packs, we set our sights on the tiny cabin below and plunged down the faint, steep mining road.

Our first stop.​

Reaching the valley floor - a dry playa completely covered so thoroughly with prickly tumbleweed that we struggled to find a route, even along the old road - we were greeted by the Martin Crossing sign. Placed in a seemingly random location where the road forks in the playa, the sign lists its GPS coordinates - as well as those of the cabin - but why someone thought it important to name and locate a place that so few might encounter is a mystery lost to time.

You are at Old Martin Crossing.
Latitude 36° 28' 8" East
Longitude 117° 6' 22.7" North
Elevation 5,200 Feet
To get to the Martin Crossing Cabin Site proceed 0.53 miles.
at 283° 57' 25" True
NAD/27 Datum​

Half a mile later - technically .53 miles, I suppose - we climbed a small rise to the cabin, where rodents now reign. The bed, table, sink, and stove were littered with debris; only the assorted supplies in a sealed metal cabinet have survived the test of time.

One might wonder why the bed frame is outside the walls of the seemingly well-kept cabin.​

Yep, I'd rather sleep outside!​

The library (left) and contents of a sealed supply cabinet (right).
​

An old visitor log sat, exposed to the weather, on the cabin table. Pens and pencils long lost to the rat nest, we had no way to add our names to the register. It had been this way - given the final entry - since 2019. Still, there were a couple of names we recognized, and that we'd encounter time after time over the course of the next week.

"Just as bad or worse than when I was here in 2012. Man builds and mother nature slowly destroys."
-Steve Hall, 5-11-15.​

6-11-16 - Jeremy Stoltzfus, NPS.​

Four prospects, a few hundred yards from the small cabin.​

It was already 11:00am by the time we departed the cabin for the main event. With just about six hours before we'd need the headlamps we'd brought along, it was a timeframe with which we were totally comfortable, given the six miles and 3,100 feet of elevation we had to cover.

We didn't realize at the time, but we'd dramatically underestimated the rough, trailless terrain - extending up and down over several false summits - between us and the top of Tucki Mountain.

After climbing a steep hillside to the first saddle, it was another rocky climb to gain the main ridge.​

Already, views to Death Valley and the Funeral Mountains were starting to poke out above the terrain.​

At the first ridge, views of the Sierra towered in the distance.​

Are they all hollow?​

Rainbow rock.​

By 1:00pm, it was clear to both of us that we might have bitten off more than we could chew. Each ridge - there were four to traverse before reaching the summit - seemed steeper than the last, and with no trail to follow, the loose rocky surface made for slow going.

Finding a spot at the top of a 300-foot ascent, we sat down for lunch. Recently - for some reason, since to our knowledge, nothing in our process has changed - this has meant extracting slightly soggy turkey sandwiches, assembled at the trailhead, from plastic bags. However, given that this was an 8-day-long trip, we decided to mix it up a bit - and reduce the amount of lettuce we needed to stuff into the fridge - by having PB&Js. Of course, a PB&J made ahead of time is an unmitigated disaster after a few hours of hiking - the peanut butter entirely oozed out and the bread always 100% soggy from the jelly - so we'd brought along a jar of each filling, a knife, and bread to assemble everything on the trail.

Wow, was that a good call! After scooping out a few tablespoons of goodness onto each slice, we munched on the sweet, gooey goodness as we soaked in the views that now stretched into the distance.

Not that you'll see it (it's there if you know where to look), but between our current position and the gleaming white of Badwater Basin, the Tacoma sat patiently on a ridgeline below us.​

After lunch and a quick conversation about our plan for the rest of the day, we decided that I would push on at a bit faster pace in an attempt to reach the summit, and @mrs.turbodb would continue up behind me, likely stopping at the third or fourth ridgeline. We'd use our Midland GMRS radios to keep in touch. It'd be a good decision for both of us, and allowed me to capture some amazing shots of her in the distance!

As I crested the third ridge, I was greeted by this small - but wide - unnamed arch.​

Our first real view of the (underwhelming) Tucki Mountain summit.​

By this time, I was twenty minutes ahead of my hiking companion, and after a few words of encouragement over the radio - but no mention of the arch, which I wanted her to discover for herself, I dropped out of view on my way into the canyon between the third and fourth ridgelines.

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A splendid view down to Furnace Creek.​

Deceptively gentle slopes.​

As I reached the fourth ridge - now only a 200-foot descent and 400-foot climb between me and the top - I glanced back to see @mrs.turbodb's head bobbing up to the third ridge. Guiding her to the high point, I zoomed in as far as my lens would allow.

Queen of the third ridge; Telescope Peak towering in the distance.​

As we chatted on the radio, this crazy-looking plane roared by overhead, its silhouette unfamiliar but clearly of the drop-some-ordinance ilk. (Some variant of B-1 Bomber.)
​

I pushed on, the summit finally feeling within reach as I picked up my pace down the back side of the fourth ridge. It was quarter to two, and I knew we had to be on our way back by 2:30pm if we were going to reach the Tacoma before sunset.

The Panamint, Cottonwood, Inyo, and Sierra all lined up nicely to my west.​

Layers into the distance (towards Badwater and the Black Mountains).​

Of all the climbs, the final ascent to the summit of Tucki Mountain was the easiest. Surely the result of adrenaline coursing through my body after so much early suffering, my eyes searched the domed top for the high point, or some sort of cairn marking my ultimate destination.

Made it to the top.​

To the northwest, the crinkled texture of the Cottonwood Mountains contrasted dramatically with the flowing hillsides of the Panamint Mountains northernmost summit, on which I found myself.​

After a quick search, I found the old ammo box that surely contained the summit log. Hopefully there'd be a writing implement included as well!


Placed a decade earlier, I wondered what I would find. (left) | It was exciting to find Steve Hall whose trip report had inspired this hike (top right) | There was Jeremy Stoltzfus again, now listing his residence as Cow Creek! (bottom right)​

I felt honored to add our name to the list.​

Looking back the way I'd come, I could see @mrs.turbodb, now on the fourth ridge.​

It was 2:15pm - a few minutes before our turnaround time - as we wrapped up a quick chat over the radios. With just under four miles to cover, the three hours before darkness would normally allow plenty of cushion for @mrs.turbodb to wait for me on the fourth ridge and then enable us to move at a more leisurely pace. However, with the slow ascent, we decided that the prudent approach would be for each of us to start back from our respective high points, hoping that I'd make up ground as we worked our way back to the Tacoma.

By the time we reached the second ridge and could clearly see the Tacoma a little more than 1.5 miles away, our plan had proven successful, and we were retracing our steps together.​

We made it, just as the sun was lighting up the sky!​

The photo I was taking in @mrs.turbodb's selfie!​

The following morning...

After one of the deceptively harder hikes we've attempted, we'd pulled the Tacoma onto the waste rock pile of the Tucki Mine under the cover of darkness, prepped a taco-ritto dinner, and climbed into bed only a couple hours after sunset.

I know this because it was 6:58pm when I turned off my Kindle and closed my eyes in order to take advantage of the next 11.5 hours of darkness that would recharge my batteries. With little wind and cool temperatures, we slept soundly until my alarm roused us at 6:20am the following morning. It was time to do a little exploring!

Sunrise at the Tucki Mine.​

An old ore chute still stands on the hillside, though all the adits and shafts - open on our last visit - have now been sealed by the National Park Service.​

From this perspective, the main cabin looked to be in reasonable condition.​

Inside however, the cabin has fallen into significant disrepair since our visit in 2021.​

The second structure - likely a workshop - now has fewer than half its walls still standing.​

Disappointed to see the deterioration that's occurred over the last three years, I headed down to the cabin to take a look inside.

This isolated gold mine, located at the head of Tucki Wash, has a long history of intermittent activity. Claimed first in 1909, then in 1927, it was active off and on until the 1970s. Over its lifetime the property, which encompassed the four main Tucki claims, the mine was leased and worked by at least half a dozen parties.

The ore, mined underground, was first treated at Roy Journigan's Mill in Emigrant Canyon until around 1938. In April 1939, after selling his mill, Roy Journigan became part owner of the mine, which eventually became the family's property. Although it brought in nearly $18,000 in 1941, other active years were likely less productive.

After the early 1950s mining was sporadic, until in 1975 Russ Journigan and a few partners installed a crusher and a leaching plant at the site to extract gold from old tailings. The operation recovered only a few dozen ounces of gold before it shut down and the equipment was removed in March 1976.

Hiking Death Valley​

I both chuckled and cringed at this note scrawled on the inside of the door. Entire walls are now collapsed, rendering it moot.​

An advertisement I can get behind.​

Even with the sad state of affairs, the visitor log was still present, and I took some time to read through it. I was surprised to find that it'd been placed by Jeremy of the NPS, though as we'd find out over the next several days, this guy seems to have been everywhere in the park!

Log cover. (left) | Jeremy's entry from Nov. 6, 2019. (top right) | Our entry from Nov. 18, 2021. (bottom right)​

Our most recent visit.​

As I climbed the waste rock pile back to camp, my companion was on her way down the ladder and before long I was stowing the tent as she poured large bowls of cereal for us to enjoy before getting underway for the day.

Exiting Telephone Canyon to the same Cottonwood views we enjoyed on our way in.​

Layers and light.​

Our itinerary - to work our way into a slot canyon along the southernmost escarpment of the Cottonwood Mountains - another destination inspired by Steve Hall - would be one of the easier hikes we tackled throughout the week, a fact we appreciated after the grueling hike we'd just completed.

 

On the topic of that B-1B, one of my non-geology geology class highlights was being up a mountainside in Death Valley and having one blast by at high sub-mach very near to us and also below us. Everybody was hyped and watched it fly off down the valley, and the professor, unimpressed, said: "It's just a plane. Back to this fold."

 

I'm not used to looking down for an airplane The first time was a shock.

Best fly by was on the way to to the air races. A small group of 4 fighters heading to the airfield for a flyby. We were on 70 headed to the races and they came over the top at a couple of hundred feet...

 

Below is the best, isn't it? My best below moment was at Hidden Dunes in Eureka Valley.



A close second was this random hillside I happened to find myself on near Area 51.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-cQnTFyUng

When I was coming into Vegas on Saturday along I-15 from St. George, I had a half dozen planes come into land and a few take off from Nellis. I realized that someday in the future, I should just find a spot there near the end of the runway somewhere and enjoy the show for a while.

 

Late afternoon, into the evening and you might see something "different". Not always but it could happen

I was coming back from St. George and managed to catch a couple of F117 departures.

 

Long ago I covered LV as part of my job. I used to go park out by the runway at Nellis for lunch and watch the jets. Also got to see the SR-71 take off from Edwards AFB. Loudest thing I ever heard.

 

If you ever get the chance to add it to your travels, check out Rainbow Canyon near Death Valley. It has a Mach Loop there nicknamed Star Wars Canyon, where there are a lot of low level passes.

 

Star Wars canyon isn't used anymore, at least, not like it used to be (to my understanding). Flights below the canyon rim were banned after a crash a few years ago that killed the pilot and injured several visitors who were viewing the training.

I find that the best spots now are at various points between Eureka and Saline Valley's, but they do a lot in Panamint too!

 

Looking at the more modern "rock art", it looks like it was done with an air powered chipper.

 

It doesn't have the traffic it used to, and I believe they are limited to 1,000ft above the rim as per: https://www.edwards.af.mil/About/R-2508/

 

Yeah, this is why the route through Hidden Dunes, Eureka, Dedeckera/Steel transition, Saline, and South Pass transition is better now. You get to be above.

Sometimes, too far above... a few days before Christmas 2024, I was a little bummed about how far above the planes we were as they transitioned out of Saline. Anyone one SVR got a good show though!

 

Nemo Slot Canyon | Following Giants #3
Part of the Following Giants (Dec 2024) trip.

For anyone familiar with recent Death Valley weather history, the impact of hurricane Hillary in 2023 will be a memorable event. After 2.2 inches of rain fell in a single day - more than the average annual total of 2.15 inches - nearly every road in the park was closed. Only a few opened within days, and a few more within weeks. Months later, many major thoroughfares were still closed. Today, more 15 months later, nearly all of the roads have been reopened, with the exception of the one we wanted to use to reach our next destination.

Exiting Telephone Canyon after our hike to the summit of Tucki Mountain, I'd normally have turned left on Emigrant Canyon Road, in order to cut our way through the Panamint Mountains to Wildrose Road. Alas, Hillary carved a 9-foot-deep cut across the road, rendering it completely impassable, and forcing us to take the long way around - up and over Towne Pass, then south along Panamint Valley Road - in order to reach our trailhead along the eastern skirt of the Panamint Mountains.

We'd need larger tires to make it through this washout on Wildrose Road.​

Luckily for us, this was the one day that we planned to have a little extra daylight, since the hike into Nemo Slot Canyon was only 5-miles roundtrip, 3.5 of which were the alluvial fan approach to the slot canyon itself. And so, as we coasted down the Panamint Valley side of Towne Pass, I didn't feel bad stopping to admire the view that unfolded in below us. This was a day to take it a bit easy, and really enjoy our time in the desert.

A gleaming Argus Range greeted us on the opposite side of Panamint Valley's dry lake bed.​

We even got a brief glimpse of the Sierra!​

Once on the valley floor, we opted to cover much of the distance to the trailhead - on East Panamint Valley Road - by taking a slightly longer, but significantly faster, route along Panamint Valley Road, before cutting over for the last few miles on Minietta Road.

The view of the northeastern Panamints - a badland paradise - as we approached was dramatic to say the least.​

I'm not sure we've ever seen the Desert holly covered in berries, so this was a neat discovery! (Atriplex hymenelytra)​

Arriving at the trailhead shortly after 10:00am, we gathered up our supplies for the day - mostly water and camera gear, but also the ingredients for PB&J sandwiches that had worked out so well on our trek to Tucki Mountain - and set our sights on the entrance to Nemo Slot, some 800 feet higher than our current elevation, and a long way up the alluvial fan.

With our dual-purpose windshield shade pumping electricity into our batteries, anticipation of what lay beyond the mouth of the canyon had us grinning as we got underway.​

We learned our lesson when hiking Military Canyon - another Steve Hall inspired destination - and now approach every canyon we can by following a wash up the alluvial fan.​

Nemo Slot is an isolated, rarely-visited narrow canyon with a beautiful slot and extensive mud drip structures which is located 6/10 of an air mile west of Nemo Canyon in the Panamint Mountains. Difficulties encountered on the hike include driving a rough 4WD road to get to the starting point, route finding to access the canyon, and being aware of potential rockfall within the narrows.

-Steve Hall​

The imposing headwall hinted at good things to come.​

By the time we entered the mouth of the canyon we'd been hiking for more than an hour. Even following the wash, the loose, rocky terrain up a steep fan made for slow going. We were both hungry and decided that before investigating either of the two main forks of the canyon that we'd find a bit of shade and put the jars of peanut butter and jelly we'd hauled along to use. It was a great decision, made even better by the potato chips and Cosmic Crisp apple that also found their way into our stomachs!

Lunch view.​

Refreshed, we eagerly dove into the right fork of the canyon where the walls quickly closed in around us and the already steep wash kicked it up a notch or two. Despite the seemingly more difficult terrain, the visual interest and reflected light on the walls around us made the hiking here an afterthought. We hopped from boulder to boulder, excited to see what was around the next corner.

Reflected light.​

Huge stones, once embedded in the conglomerate walls, littered our path.​

The higher we got, the more the walls closed in around us.​

Shadows and light played off the canyon walls, adding texture and depth to an otherwise homogonous environment.​

It wasn't just the light on the canyon walls that caught our attention, though glowing orange walls are always a highlight. The plant life here - in nearly perpetual shade - was greener, flowers more plentiful. And then, there was the fox. Or, perhaps more appropriately, once-fox.

This is a common plant in the Mojave, but I don't know if we've ever seen it green, and certainly never flowering. (Wild buckwheat - Eriogonum heermannii)​

Poor fox. (I think it was a fox.)​

The walls of the canyon were covered in mud drips, adding an amazing texture as they cascaded down toward the wash.​

This massive chockstone - more than10-feet in diameter - sits atop a 40-foot dry fall in a cathedral of conglomerate.​

After exploring the side slot, we pushed further up the main canyon. Here too, light played off the walls and Wile E. Coyote boulders hung precariously overhead.

Seems safe.​

Still, @mrs.turbodb and I both agreed that the side slot was actually the more interesting fork of the canyon, though after re-reviewing Steve's photos on our return, I believe that may be due to the fact that the main slot is no longer passable to the same extent that it was when he visited in 2016

The main canyon was spectacular, even if slightly less so than the side canyon.
​

In an environment like this - where the canyon walls are but mud, sand, and stone compressed together by the same elements pushing down from above - a little rain can make a big difference. Surely Hurricane Hillary dramatically changed parts of this canyon, carrying material rapidly to the alluvial fan, carving new falls into the crumbly walls.

It was one of these falls - 15 feet tall and difficult to climb due to the lack of solid rock on which to find hand- and foot-holds - that forced us to cut our exploration of the main slot short. Perhaps the final few hundred feet will be accessible again - or gone forever - after the next big storm. There's only one way to find out.

Heading back, the downhill direction of the already short hike was - except for the fact that we were walking directly into the sun - an easy affair, and by 3:00pm we were reading our books in the cab, enjoying a cool northerly breeze in the shade of the solar panels.

All that was left was to figure out where we would camp for the night.

Our plan for the next day - to hike Towne Peak and a remote plane crash high in the Cottonwood Mountains - was the most ambitious of our hikes for the entire trip, and we knew that the 9-mile roundtrip - with more than 3,000 feet of elevation - would eat up almost all of our daylight. As such, we'd planned to camp near the trailhead, though at 5,000 feet, we knew it would be a very chilly and reasonably windy night.

And so, I suggested that - if @mrs.turbodb was amenable to getting up 45 minutes early so we could drive to the trailhead by sunrise - we could camp in the relative warmth of Panamint Valley, sheltered from the wind by a few of the lower folds of Wildrose Canyon. It was - looking back now - the obvious choice, and before long we were working our way along East Panamint Valley Road in the hopes of finding the perfect spot to call home.

We encountered a few small washouts along the way, but were ultimately able to navigate them all.​

Camp doesn't get much better than a private view of Telescope Peak.​

We even had a view of Nemo Slot Canyon as the sunset blanketed the hills.​

As darkness fell, the Milky Way gleamed overhead.​

Asleep by 7:15pm, Nemo Slot Canyon had proven to be a wonderfully relaxing adventure and the perfect prelude to the grind that we'd experience the following morning, afternoon, and evening as we struck out for the summit of Towne Peak, and the Albatross that lay - precariously perched on a steep cliff - beyond...

 

The private view of Telescope Peak might be my favorite.

 

That must've been one dark picture you were taking

 

hahahaha, nice catch. Staged this after @mrs.turbodb got the first one, but her iPhone SE image was so washed out from the backlight that we had to redo it (to get the boulder above me).

Or maybe it was just so sunny in that part of the slot that I needed an opaque ND filter

Obviously that private site is always there, but it's less than a mile from pavement so not "allowed." My stance was that Wildrose was technically closed, so its "pavement" status shouldn't count on that particular evening. Was a really fantastic spot, and may not exist once the ongoing roadwork is completed.

 

Regardless, the view is priceless.

 

Somehow I forgot to post this up from about a month ago...

First Impressions of Dyna R452 5th Gear
TL;DR - The new 5th gear is gutless, but it does seem to have improved my gas mileage significantly. Maybe.

Can installing this save you gas money?​

Not more than a few hours after posting that I installed the Toyota Dyna R452 5th gear in my Toyota R150F transmission, I started getting questions about how it affected my fuel economy. At that point, I'd only driven it a few hundred miles, and of those, more than half of them shared a tank of fuel with my stock 5th gear as I'd driven across the state to do the swap.

I always get a kick out of guys who post a picture of their gauge cluster showing 35 MPG to their favorite social media platform, with some caption like, "What's your gas mileage?" Usually, it turns out that these folks have travelled 12 miles, downhill, with a tailwind. It's total garbage.

Anyway, I figured that a 1,000 mile journey from Seattle to Las Vegas for our Return to the Desert was a reasonably good first start at figuring out whether the new 5th gear in the Tacoma was going to result in a MPG boost or whether it was going to be so gutless that I'd constantly be downshifting into 4th gear, negating any gains from the higher overdrive.

In the end, it was a little of both, and probably too soon to tell whether the modification was a resounding success. Still, it was definitely enough to get some first impressions, so with after an extremely long preamble, here they are:

Pros

• The swap itself was successful. This may seem like a strange one, but not knowing anyone else who'd done the swap, I was worried that the Dyna R452 5th gear might not work correctly in some way - perhaps the synchros wouldn't work, or there'd end up being some problem with the gears on the shafts, etc. - but none of those worries have come to pass.
  • Shifting into gear is easy. The very first few times I shifted into 5th gear were slightly harder than my original, worn-in 5th gear, but after driving a few hundred miles, there's no distinguishable difference in shifting difficulty/ease.
  • Noise is the same. There's no distinguishable difference in noise between the two 5th gears. This wasn't something I'd thought of prior to the swap, but was something Zane @Speedytech wondered about when we were doing the initial test drive.
• Cruising RPMs are significantly lower. This was what I was hoping from the swap, and without a doubt, my RPMs are a lower now. At 65 MPH, I see a little more than 500 RPM reduction, and over a range of speeds, I see a ~16.8% reduction in RPMs
• 4Lo is a little more versatile. One of the things that bugged me about 4Lo - ever since I installed 4.88 gears - was that the max speed - or at least, the speed where the engine RPMs start to get loud/overwhelming - was around 25 MPH. Swapping 5th gear raised that speed to a little more than 30 MPH, without affecting the lower end. 4Lo- 1st, 2nd, and 3rd still reap the benefit of 4.88s, while the upper end now feels more like 4.10 gears in the diffs. It's fantastic.
• Gas mileage seems like it is probably better. I've got this listed in the pros for now, because better gas mileage is a good thing, but even with 1,000 miles on the odometer with the new gears, I think I still have more to learn here. For details, see "More on Gas Mileage," below.

Cons

• 5th gear is gutless. I've always felt that 5th gear on my 1st gen Tacoma - even with 4.88 gears and 33" tires - has been gutless, but the R452 5th gear is even more so. Mathematically, it's ~16.8% more gutless, but I was surprised how much more gutless that feels. Anything but very slow acceleration is difficult. This is true across the entire speed range, because as speeds increase to the point where the RPMs should allow faster acceleration, wind resistance has also increased (proportionally to speed-squared), making it harder to accelerate further. It really feels like 5th gear has no power band, now.
• The usable RPM overlap between 4th and 5th gear is smaller. With the original 5th gear, speeds between approximately 45-50 and 70 MPH seemed to be where I could reasonably transition between 4th and 5th gear without feeling that I was lugging 5th at the low end or overrevving 4th at the high end. With the R452 5th gear, the upper end of that does not change, since beyond 70 MPH, 4th gear still feels overreved. However, the lower end, where it doesn't seem that 5th gear is lugging, has increased to 55-60 MPH. This is not a huge deal, but simply underscores the gutlessness of the new 5th gear.
• Bigger tires would be untenable. I've never seriously considered running 35" tires - despite how cool they look - because I care too much about fuel economy and I worry that with larger tires, I'd push the Tacoma in ways that would break a lot of other stuff. But, it is clear to me that with the new 5th gear and 4.88 differentials, running 35" tires would be impossible because the RPMs in 5th gear would be much too low. In order to make it work, I'd need to upgrade my differentials to 5.29s.

More on Gas Mileage
Gas mileage is always top of mind with a modification like this. As I mentioned earlier, I don't feel confident making a final call on the topic, even with just more than 1,450 miles on the odometer, but I'm happy to share the data I have so far:

Highway fuel economy over the years.
​

On the surface, that might seem like a clear win for the new 5th gear, with (18.24 - 17.48) / 17.48 = 4.3% fuel economy improvement, but here are two caveats:

1. MPG could be even better if I hadn't installed new wheels/tires. A few weeks before installing the Dyna R452 5th gear, I installed new wheels and tires. As I noted in my First Impressions - Sequioa Wheels and Kenda Klever RT Don't Fit , I added approximately 20lbs to each corner of the truck, and I could definitely feel the extra weight when starting the Tacoma from a stop. I only ran one tank of gas on the highway with that setup (16.80 mpg), so it's hard to say how they affected the overall fuel economy of the Tacoma. At the very least, it's likely that they make the 18.24 mpg number lower than it would have been, had I stuck with the lighter wheel/tire combo.
2. MPG could have been worse if I'd had a headwind. On my 1,000-mile trip from Seattle to Las Vegas, I believe that I had a tailwind more than I had a headwind, though I had both, and also had a crosswind part of the time. Whatever the percentages were, I feel like there were enough miles/trips in years prior to 2024 to average out the wind situation, but 2024(R452) doesn't yet have that luxury. If anything, I would guess the 2024(R452) MPG number is a little high, given what I perceived of the wind.

Do those two caveats cancel each other out? Does one play more of a role than the other? It will be hard to tell with the current set of wheels/tires installed, and I'll only ever figure out a comparable number if I revert to my previous wheel/tire setup once I wear down the Klever R/Ts - but only time will tell with regards to the wind. Naturally, I'll keep monitoring the situation, and over the coming months and years, I hope to come up with a definitive answer!

 

MPG for our trucks are usually not calculated with the heavier tires or all the crap we carry Normally, if you were gonna calculate mileage, it'd be over a distance and in both directions--a bit like speed records at Bonneville. I'm sure there are ways to compensate for the wind too.

But 4% is 4%. Just be thankful you're not driving an 1985 with a four banger--now that's gutless

 

35's 4.88 and a manual fells closer to stock. With 33’s i felt like the rpms were super high at freeway speeds.