AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

last trip we camped at Carothers, arriving at night fall to the locked gate..That was a fun night run on the overgrown bypass to the other side which isnt gated. Turned out to be a great campsite though.




love your photos as always!

 

I like Digonnet's book on Hiking the Mojave Desert, personally. Of course, at some point I'll need to branch out, after I've visited everything there, hahahaha! As always, I find myself using his texts for inspiration of a few places, and then I supplement that with other research (largely online) before setting out. Any given trip to the Mojave (so far) tends to be ~50/50 for me.

 

If you don't teach history, you should.

This was especially good. My question about the tin building was construction of the roof. You see those every now and again. I often wonder if they did it thinking it would be dryer inside. Or of they used tin because it was what they had.

I loved the sign in the cabin! And I share your curiosity over why things were just abandoned-I honestly feel it's because the cost of taking it with was too high. But then you see places with personal possessions. Imagine you've just finished breakfast and your parents tell you "We're leaving. Take only ...". Maybe it's just a bible or something else truly personal.

It's crazy.

 

Sort of a hard call. If you don’t mind the restriction to “summits” then Zdon’s Desert Summits covers a very wide area and a lot of spots on BLM land not in the more typical NPS unit focused guides. Diggonet has actually recently released his own broad area Mojave Desert Peaks that like his other books is a bit beyond your typical guide with write ups that are almost an armchair adventure. Zdon hits many more peaks with more terse descriptions than Diggonet.

I can’t think of any broader area guide that hits the many wonderful canyons of the desert in the way Diggonet does in his DV and MNP books.

 

Thanks Dan and Ken. Are the “summit” books really limited to peak-bagging or are there enough approach trails etc that they are good for general hikes? I’m think the Zdon book might be a good entry as I’d like to go beyond the Preserve boundaries. Or heck, just get all three!

 

While pretty much everything has some sort of “peak” or high point as the destination there are certainly some where the getting there is mostly the point. Places like Malpais Mesa or Sandy Peak are examples where really don’t necessarily need to get to the “peak” to reap great dividends.

 

Into the Dome Fire - Mojave #3

Unlike the previous night, the wind at the mouth of Carruthers Canyon never abated, making for the worst sleep of the trip. Tossing and turning as the wind buffeted the tent, I was glad when my alarm went off - simply because it meant I could be done trying to sleep.

An orange glow just poking up over the horizon, I climbed out of the tent and quickly wrapped myself in all the warm clothes I'd brought along - the tent at least affording me warmth under the down comforters.

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Luckily for me, Carruthers Canyon is one of my favorite spots in the park - the granite spires reaching high, wonderlands of rock popping up through the trees. Even on a cold, breezy morning, it was a true pleasure to watch the sun slowly illuminate the landscape, the long rays coloring everything around.

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With our limited light now ticking away, @mrs.turbodb was soon out of the tent and we munched on our cereal as we discussed the plan for the day. We'd driven up the canyon when we'd arrived in the dark the evening before - hoping to camp in an area that was a bit more sheltered - but the site was already occupied. Still, I wanted to head that direction again - just for a few minutes - to see a balanced rock reminiscent of the heads on Easter Island. So, that's what we did.

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Easter Island Rock.​

Originally, I'd planned for us to hike Carruthers Canyon - to the divide with Keystone and Sagamore - but having done that the previous day from a different direction, we choose to head back out and get and early start to the rest of our day!

Like squirrels in the bulk food section, we were distracted almost immediately. A road - one not on any of our maps - led away from the main drag toward the New York Mountains. Where did it go? We decided to find out.

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Predictably, it terminated a mile or so later at a reasonably nice camp site, where a family of mule deer were munching on their morning meal, wondering who the heck we were to intrude on them like this.

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We watched them for a while, and then had a bit of fun ourselves in the morning sun, before turning the truck around and heading south to New York Mountain Road, Table Mountain rising prominently in the distance.

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New York Mountain Road turned out to be in great shape, and it was good fun racing along at 35mph, the reasonably-newly-installed limit straps in the front alleviating any concern around over-drooping the front suspension and coaxing us faster. As a result, we soon reached the intersection with the Mojave Road at Rock Spring - a place we'd been before, but that I only recently discovered contained petroglyphs.

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Given everything else in our full schedule, the idea had been to find the petroglyphs and then continue on our way. But, like everything else on our schedule, we ended up enjoying the hike through the small canyon - eventually finding ourselves a mile or so from where we started, meandering our way up and enjoying the scenery. #ThisIsTheWay

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There were - no doubt - several rock carvings and art that we discovered. Near the mouth of the canyon, Stuart - of the 4th Infantry - left his mark on May 16, 1886. Near the upper end of the canyon, more contemporary visitors unfortunately did the same.

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Along the way, we also found those that we'd come in search of. Or, more precisely, some actual petroglyphs - as we didn't know if there were more that we missed. Rather faint, it was hard to tell what they were trying to depict - and we were reminded that many times, the joy is in the search - regardless of the outcome. It wouldn't be the last time - even on this trip - that we'd be reminded of this important fact!

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From Rock Spring Canyon, we turned the Tacoma west along a short section of Mojave Road. This section - wide and well travelled - brought us down out of the Lanfair Valley and into the Kelso Basin. In the distance, the road continued - its size greatly diminished after crossing Kelso-Cima Road.

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We - however - were not going that direction. Instead, we turned north on Death Valley Mine Road, toward the tiny enclave of Cima, and ultimately Teutonia Peak. This is one of the most beautiful roads in the preserve - Joshua Trees, yucca, several types of chollo, and more all packed tightly together - a true garden of spikes.

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As we passed the Death Valley Mine itself, we made our last pre-lunch detour. We'd been here before - and the history of this curiously named place is worth reading - but it'd been extremely foggy at the time, and I couldn't pass a quick peak with the sun shining.

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A nice place to enjoy a cool lemonade on a hot summer day.​

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What the world is coming to, courtesy 1975.​

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The main mine shaft - now flooded by water, 30' below the surface.​

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The mill, housed in the large plywood structure crowned by a square turret. Ore was dumped into it through the feeder near its top, mixed with water from the tank on the roof, then spun around and crushed to a fine powder by steel balls or rods inside the mill. The nearby mill tailing is small, so this mill likely did not work very hard.​

Headed north once again - Teutonia Peak now visible in the distance - our conversation pivoted from history and geology to a much more modern-day concern: fire.

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It's hard to tell in the photo above, but if you know what you're looking for, you can see a small fraction of the devastation - the darkened Joshua Trees in the distance - from the Dome fire of 2020. Sparked by lightning from a series of dry storms, and with the help of gusty winds and dry conditions in the following days, containment of the fire was challenging. More than 43,273 acres of Joshua Tree forest centered around Cima Dome burned.

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At the time of the fire, many who care so much for these desert sanctuaries were understandably distraught by the devastation to this special place - the density of Joshua Trees here, rivaling that of any other location. Interestingly however, as Ken @DVexile pointed out - from an article that he found - the Joshua Trees in Cima may have achieved their density only because of grazing. The cattle don’t eat the (native) blackbrush which is a nursery species for Joshua Trees. As a result, over time, far more blackbrush existed than usual, in turn leading to far more Joshua tree seedlings reaching maturity. So, these unusually dense Joshua tree forests - though they have become iconic - are perhaps not natural to begin with!

Not that this realization made driving through the burned forest any less shocking.

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We arrived at the trailhead for our hike up Teutonia Peak just right around 11:15am. With the sun shining and both of us already hungry, we decided that it would be the perfect spot to have lunch before setting out on the short - but still steep - climb to the top. It was our understanding that this was one of the busier hikes in the preserve, but as we lounged in our chairs enjoying tuna and chips, no one passed us - the fire having consumed not only the vegetation, but also much of the desire to hike the Teutonia trail.

Our bellies no longer grumbling, we set off along the trail, the narrow path clearly a line that had been used to fight back the flames.

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We also visited the site of the old Teutonia Mine and Toegel City - now lost to time forever

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Teutonia Mine site - only the covered shaft remains.​

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The general store at Toegel City - caught up in the 2020 Dome fire.​

And then, we began our climb. All alone in an area usually full of hikers, our experience was one that I think we'll never forget - a unique opportunity not just to reflect on the devastation, but also to marvel in a landscape that not many will ever see. Because - while recovery may seem slow to us - the desert will reclaim this place more quickly than we think - new plants and wildlife filling the void.

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It was only as we neared the top that a few survivors remained - the rock-to-plant ratio high enough to protect them from the flames. A reminder that even the desert can look lush under the right circumstances.

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The views from Teutonia Peak were unworldly. The foreground a sight seen by few, and far in the distance to the north - Death Valley National Park's Telescope Peak.

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The tallest mountain on the horizon: Telescope Peak, more than 100 miles away.​

The summit achieved, our downhill scramble to the truck passed quickly, the lack of people - even on a Saturday - still a bit of a surprise to both of us. We weren't complaining - hiking without face coverings or maintaining distance from others is a much easier proposition, and one that we were happy to take advantage of on this beautifully sunny day.

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Teutonia Peak now in our rear view mirrors, our route had us heading west through the cinder cones, but not before stopping for fuel, where Cima Road intersected I-15. And so, as we plodded along the 20 miles or so of pavement, our tires aired down and so our speed reasonably slow - we both noticed an Audi A3 that looked strangely situated off the side of the road.

Pulling along side and donning our masks, we rolled down the windows to inquire if they needed help. Sure enough, they did - having pulled off the pavement and into 10" deep sand to "take a break" from driving. Oops.

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And so, for the second time in as many trips, we whipped out a short tow strap, clevis, and the winch - and pulled a vehicle out of the deep sand along Cima Road. It took less than 10 minutes this time around, with a masked smile and "thank you," the no-longer-stranded-travelers were on their way.

Half an hour later we'd filled the tank with fuel and headed west into the Cima volcanic field. Covering 60 square miles between the the Ivanpah upland and Kelso Basin, it was named a National Natural Landmark due to geologic significance in 1973. The 40 cinder cones (volcanoes) range from 7.6 million, to a mere 10,000 years old.

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Aiken Mine Road - the only road through this protected area - skirts the north end of Cima Dome and gave us yet another look at the fire that we'd experienced most of the day. For nearly half an hour we drove along, everything on the south side of the road blackened, while to the north it was as though nothing had changed.

Ten miles in, I spotted a windmill a little way off the road, and I woke @mrs.turbodb - who'd dozed off after an eventful morning - so we could go take a look.

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Well, this slight detour turned out to be another of our blessings-in-disguise, because as we re-joined the Aiken Mine Road, we happened to spot what looked like some sort of encampment at the base of a cinder cone several miles away. As @mrs.turbodb tried to match up map- and real-world-topography, I pulled out the binoculars and excitedly related that it appeared to be an old mine - or, perhaps even an active site.

With the afternoon wearing on, we now had a decision to make - go explore the newly-discovered-and-not-yet-identified mine, or continue on to find camp further down the Aiken Mine Road. Yeah, you know what we chose.

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The mine we'd stumbled upon was the old Cima Cinder Mine.

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We spent some time exploring the old mine camp - the single wide, a graffitied trailer, a cinder block house, and several old vehicles all left to rot when the mine was cleared out.

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That skull: a familiar sight in the desert.​

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As we explored further, we made our way towards the heart of the mining operation. Similar to the Aiken Cinder Mine that we'd explored on our last trip to this region, a large scale was the first structure we passed. Used to weigh material for before it left the mine, its calibration has lapsed over time, registering the Tacoma at exactly zero pounds.

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Finally, we headed up into the cinder cone to explore the workings of the mine. Unlike many of the other mines we come across on a trip like this, a cinder mine consists - essentially - of scooping the cinder off of the side of a mountain. Once the top layer has been removed, the rest of the mountain is the ore, ground and separated as necessary for various uses at a large crushing and screening plant.

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Even the large machinery belies the size of an operation such as this. On a platform above the plant, a huge section of the volcano had been carved away - the layers of cinder now exposed, giving us the ability to see what it was like inside this volcano.

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Not all the rock was uniform. Green cinder?​

Our last stop before heading back was at the mine's old scrap yard. There, old trucks, tractors, conveyors, and other equipment that no longer worked but contained valuable parts were still parked - rusting away as the decades passed.

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An unfortunate mark. Lawlessness is not a solution.​

By now, we had only half-an-hour or so of sunlight left - not long at all to find a camp spot. We high-tailed it back to Aiken Mine Road and discussed where to camp as we headed west. Ultimately we decided that camping near the Aiken Mine would be a reasonable spot - allowing us something to explore in the morning, as well as both sunset and sunrise views due to the raised platforms of cinder.

We arrived just in the nick of time, the truck positioned so we could enjoy the show right out the windshield to our heart's delight.

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As the light along the horizon waned, we enjoyed a no-cook dinner: pasta salad for me, and Spanish tortilla for @mrs.turbodb as we watched an episode of Long Way Down on my phone - a great show that I highly recommend for anyone who loves motorcycles, adventure, and friendship.

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We spent a couple more hours in the truck - putzing around with photos, knitting, and reading before calling it a night and heading up to bed. The wind that had plagued us in the northeast part of the preserve was nowhere to be found - a relief to both of us as we nodded off to sleep.

It was sleep that we'd need the following day - our plan the most ambitious yet: if the Tacoma could manage the sandy roads, we'd attempt a 12 mile hike through the heart of Devil's Playground.

 

What's your Access Cab space behind you look like? Do you have storage or did you leave the jumpseats in?

 

I'd thought it was only burned west of Teutonia Peak, and was very surprised to see it extend so far east. I wish I'd hiked Teutonia both before, and after - just to see the difference.

I still have the jumpseats back there, though I've installed a cabinet that holds my dual battery, solar/electrical, and recovery gear on the passenger side.

Lots of photos here (MOAR Power, More Redundancy – Dual AGM Battery Install), but here's one that's a bit representative (though not complete). You can see that I can store stuff on top of this cabinet (which works really well for day-to-day items) and then next to it - where we keep all of our clothes, etc.

Why do you ask?

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Thanks, just figured with your adventure rig being very purpose built you'd have a 'purpose' for every square inch. I don't really use my access cab back area besides a dog platform but was looking for some other storage ideas.

 

That's the Evening Star. And it was saved, which is great.

Yeah, I generally try to keep things organized, but I also try to not bring too much stuff on trips, so I don't have to worry about using every square inch in the most efficient possible fashion. I wondered about building something behind the driver seat, but figured the extra weight of whatever that setup would be was more than I wanted to spend. All of our clothes fit in backpacks anyway, so I don't need any fancy storage for that.

 

The Devils Playground - Mojave #4

Waking up near Aiken Cinder Mine turned out to be glorious. The calm night meant plenty of sleep, and I was well-rested when I climbed down the ladder to greet the orange line creeping up behind the old crusher.

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The next hour went by quickly as I walked around the mine site, colors changing constantly as the light and dark battled in the sky. In an already remote place visited by few, this was a time that I knew even fewer ever experienced. The silence of change.

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The Caterpillar generator still stood guard over the site, a little "off" just like everything else.​

With the sun finally above the horizon, I whistled down to @mrs.turbodb who'd been enjoying the show - and her book - from the coziness of the tent. She climbed out to prep breakfast and lunch for what we hoped would be a long day of exploration through one of the most remote and least visited sections of the preserve - Devils Playground.

As she did, I packed away the Mt. Shasta CVT - much easier on a calm morning with temps in the 40s°F rather than high 20s°F with gusty winds! And then, we loaded up to move out - one quick stop at an old tractor that neither of us remembered, and another to inspect some desert melon - before pointing ourselves south along Aiken Mine Road towards our destination.

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Could this contain the most tasty nectar?​

Yeah, no.​

A view to make up for the lack of tasty nectar.​

Down through the youngest domes in the Cima volcanic field we continued to lose elevation at a rapid pace. We found ourselves underground - hoping to catch the sun's rays streaming through the skylights of the lava tube - just after 8:30am. We were much too early - the alignment not occurring for several hours - but still enjoyed our time exploring the cave.

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From our camp at 4000 feet above sea level, we'd ultimately find ourselves at just over 1200 feet as we threaded our way down Jackass Canyon - its mouth spilling out a few miles east of Devils Playground.

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The dunes of Devils Playground, Soda Lake dry in the distance.​

From our current position, a power line road stretched for four miles across the alluvial fan that spilled out of Jackass Canyon. This section of road was one that we'd been warned about - the desert winds blowing fine sand into deep drifts that can make it impassable, even with 4wd. If that were the case today, it would mean adding eight additional miles to our hike - something that neither of us wanted!

Walking the first quarter mile of sand, it was certainly fine and the drifts were in fact several feet deep. Rarely visited, there were no previous tracks. Still, I hoped that with a bit of speed, the ability to further air down our tires, and a set of USActionTrax recovery boards in the case of emergency, I figured that at the very least, we could slowly work our way out of any situation.

Relief, having made it through the deepest of the sand, the road clear ahead.​

I've never noticed powerline markers before.​

Excited that we wouldn't be walking eight extra miles in the fine sand, we now found ourselves at the foot of the third largest dune complex in the country. It was - however - a bit less impressive than we'd imagined. Unlike dune fields like Eureka Dunes in Death Valley, and even the Preserve's own Kelso Dunes to the south, these are not entirely made of sand - the volcanic material over which the sand had blown, still visible in many places. As well, where there was sand, it was largely covered with grasses and desert shrubs.

But - the draw of this place - for us, at any rate - was the solitude. Unlike every other dune field I've visited, there were no footprints on these dunes before we set out to explore.

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Initially, we chose our direction based on a route suggested by Digonnet, heading north towards an isolated dune some two miles across the valley. Quickly though, the more intelligent of our group suggested to me that perhaps we should simply wander in the direction that seemed most interesting - creating our own story as it were.

And so, we turned west - immediately into the dunes - views of the Bristol Mountains omnipresent as we scaled the undulating ridges

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We planned a few routes carefully, ensuring that we could reach local summits without disturbing the pristine ridgelines. As we did, the Canon 80D snapped away, the intervalometer taking a photo every few seconds as we posed at the top.

Queen of the world.​

And then, I had the pleasure of running down! Ruining the ridges like this disturbed me at first, but I realized that with almost no traffic and plenty of wind, there'd be no indication I'd been here, in just a few days.

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We wandered for several hours - up and down through the dunes and rocks, sand finding every nook and crevice in our shoes. When we were hungry, we found a spot at the top of the highest dune, the sun at our backs and as we feasted on food and views spread out before us.

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Eventually, we decided it was time to head back to the truck. We'd covered several hard miles through fine, soft sand - only a fraction of the playground for sure - and had those same miles to retrace before we'd be done. Of course, in such an expanse, our route back was far from the same as the route out - plenty of new things to see on the return trip.

What causes some leaves to bleach white while others remain brown?​

Kelso Dunes in the distance.​

As we headed east, the Old Dad Mountains.​

Through it all, one of the constant - and most interesting - directions to look was always down. In a place like this - the landscape seeming barren and monotonous - nearly all of the action happens on the ground. The tracks of lizards, beetles, and rabbits crisscrossed the dunes. Through it all, the world's largest eraser left splendid patterns painted across the land.

Hopping sasquatch, or wascally wabbit?​

Wind ripples, a reminder - even on the calmest day - of what's in charge here.​

A couple hours later, we arrived at the truck, our first order of business to clean the sand - as best we could - from the lower halves of our bodies. I'd set up the solar system while we were gone, charging both our laptops, keeping the fridge cool, and topping off the dual batteries to boot - some 200Wh of free energy generated in our absence.

That's right, I'd recovered approximately three cents of power.

Once we'd dusted off and cleaned up a bit - the warm afternoon allowing us to wash our faces and nether-regions in something other than the freezing cold of night or morning - it was time to make a decision on where to go. The route I'd mapped via Google Earth had us retracing our path through Jackass Canyon, but we'd spotted a road from the top of the dunes that looked as though - if we could make it through the deep sand - it might get us to the Union Pacific Railway that runs east-to-west through the desert.

We set off to see if we could make it.

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If we did, we would save us dozens of miles and a couple of hours of driving. If not - well - we had enough time to turn around and make our way back. Worst case, we'd get stuck in the sand and camp in the middle of nowhere. And of course, we were going to camp in the middle of nowhere, anyway.

The road turned out to be no worse than the one we'd taken into Devils Playground, and by 3:30pm - a full hour before sunset - we were essentially at camp for the night. Well, not completely. See, I was contemplating my next modification for the Tacoma - railroad wheels - and @mrs.turbodb was more nervous than any other time on the trip - though to be clear, we could see miles in each direction when she yelled out the window to, "stop pulling this little stunt."

Yes, it turns out that a Tacomas track width is exactly standard rail gauge.​

Having completed our journey for the day, we decided on a camp site just south of the tracks near Kerens but refrained from setting up camp just yet. Instead - hoping for a train to come through as the sun dropped below the horizon and color splashed across the sky - we grilled some hot dogs and ate them in a rather unique location.

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Alas, we'd missed the last train before sundown. Not wanting to set up camp in the dark, we pulled into our designated spot - which was any spot we darn well pleased - and settled in for the evening.

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It was 5:30pm or so when I remarked to @mrs.turbodb, "That sounds like a Tacoma." Sure enough, a few minutes later, a silver second gen Tacoma pulled up to an abandoned pump station between us and the rails. Wondering out loud, "Who could be out here at this time of night?" we kept to ourselves as the driver got out to explore the small building, before heading back the way he'd come - toward Kelso.

Upon our return, I'd discover that it was @mk5 (!), having seen our APRS and driven out to say hi! Not seeing any signs of life - our decision to keep to ourselves - he did the same. A missed opportunity for us both; an near meeting that we'll need to rectify on a future adventure.

Eventually, a train did rumble through - first from the east, then from the west - every two hours or so, all through the night. Our earplugs in, they didn't bother us at all.

 

we recently drove thru there, neat area for sure.

 

There are a number of older rail lines that have begun renting hand carts for tours. I think you're on to something with the Hi-Rail idea tho...

 

The Thrill of the Hunt - Mojave #5

I awoke not to my alarm, but to the distant sound of a diesel engine. Excited, I hurriedly pulled on my clothes and scampered down the ladder, grabbing my camera and tripod as I sprinted toward the train tracks. "How lucky was I," I thought to myself, not only was there a train at sunrise, but it was approaching from the east - allowing me to snap a photo of the powerful engines with an orange halo of morning. I took a test shot to get the exposure right.

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Even better, I realized, I could take a video! And so, I did. And it was glorious, the horns blaring as the engines powered past. And then, I accidentally deleted it.

Even without the video though, the experience left me energized, and I wandered through the early morning, enjoying the light as it played across the desert, eventually highlighting the hillsides around us.

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There were - of course, with time - more trains. Thundering through the valley, these steel beasts of the Union Pacific rolled along the tracks at high speed - traffic and crossings few and far between.

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Soon, we too were following the tracks - headed east - towards the historic Kelso Depot. Built in 1923 by Union Pacific to compete with the Harvey House stations on the Santa Fe line, the depot was a spacious two-story building with a waiting room, a ticket office, a telegraph office, a baggage room, living quarters for staff, a billiard room, and a library. A 24-hour eatery would be added later.

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Closed by Union Pacific in 1985, it was acquired - for the sum total of $1.00 - by the NPS when Mojave National Preserve was created in 1994. Over the next several years, it was renovated and since 2005 has been the preserve's main visitor center.

We didn't spend much time at Kelso Depot - it was closed due to the public's poor decision-making skills around gatherings, and thus spiking COVID-19 levels - instead continuing south past the Kelso Dunes to Granite Pass and the Granite Mountains.

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While my favorite places - at least so far - to hike in the Mojave Preserve have been in the New York and Ivanpah Mountains, I've always found the Granite Mountains - viewed from the south - to be the most stunning. Stretching 10-miles from tip to tail in the southwest corner of the preserve, the name is apt, its entire body constructed of weathered boulders reaching toward the sky. And for the first time we'd experience them up close - our plan, to hike nearly to the highest point via Budweiser Canyon.

It was another ten miles or until the entrance to the canyon, and as we approached, @mrs.turbodb mentioned that a nearby destination might be worth a look. Our previous day of the trip having been the only one that went entirely to plan, I knew that if we took this detour that it would mean foregoing the hike to the top of Budweiser Canyon - the six mile hike, with 3,000 feet of elevation gain, one of the most difficult in the preserve.

Ultimately, the unknown - as so often seems the case - won out, and we turned toward Willow Spring Basin - a three mile hike described as one of the most scenic in the preserve.

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Much of the Granite Mountains are contained within wilderness, so we parked at the edge and began our exploration by following the last vestiges of an old road towards Willow Spring. Already, the views to our south - of granite outcroppings in the foreground and the Bristol, Sheep Hole, and Cleghorn Mountains in the distance - fantastic.

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Within minutes however, the view to our south was no longer top of mind. We found ourselves wandering into a wonderland of granite - towering hills of handsome boulders surrounded by pointed and steep granitic slopes. We stopped often, and at one point I handed all my gear to @mrs.turbodb so I could climb a formation that called louder than others!

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After approximately half a mile, the faint road gave way to an initially wide wash, which we followed further into the basin. Footprints here were plentiful, but they were of quail - not human - hundreds of them taking to the air over the course of the next hour or so, flushed from their habitat by our intrusion. Soon, the wash narrowed and our progress slowed as we hopped from granite boulder to granite boulder, dodging a myriad of pointy plant life.

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It was - to say the least - both beautiful and incongruous. How could so much green vegetation survive in this harshly alien habitat? Perhaps the other-worldly nature of the flora was the answer we were looking for!

In under an hour we reached the apex of our journey - Willow Spring. Apparently wet year-round, a flock of quail once again took to the air as we approached, their cries of "Chi-ca-go," crisp and clear as they regrouped further up wash. For a few moments we admired the small spring, soon continuing just a bit higher for a better view of our surroundings.

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Baby barrel cactus.​

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A happy place.​

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View from a happy place.​

Not wanting to take exactly the same route back, we looped over a low ridge to our west towards an adjacent wash. We could have, I suppose, turned north at that point and continued further into the mountains - the mesmerizing terrain continuing as far as the eye could see - but planning for a short hike, neither of us had brought food or water, so instead we made our way down the wash, continuing to admire our surroundings as we went.

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Teenage barrel cactus.​

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Split rock.​

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More views.​

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Troll hair.​

Once we were back to the truck, we had a decision to make - eat lunch here, or wait until we got to Budweiser Canyon? Our plan - since we no longer had time to hike to the top - was instead to search around the mouth of the canyon for some red pictographs that we'd read were in the area. With that in mind, we decided it would be a good idea to head that direction, and I could start looking while @mrs.turbodb prepped our tasty meal.

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The trip to Budweiser Canyon took us further west - right to the border of the preserve - before veering north again, into the southwest corner of the Granite Mountains. It was at this turn that we bumped up on the Bristol Mountain Wilderness - an area we've never explored and will need to do a little digging on to see if it's worth a return trip.

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From there, it was only a few more miles to our destination at Budweiser Spring, the views alone - both toward and away from the Granite Mountains - worth the trip to what seemed like our most remote destination yet.

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It was just before 1:00pm when we turned off the engine and set about our respective tasks, each of us eager to enjoy the fruits of the others endeavor! My hopes and expectations high, I set out in search of pictographs, the only clue I had that they were "among the boulders surrounding the spring at the mouth of the canyon."

And there were a lot of boulders.

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In fact, the mouth of Budweiser Canyon was an order of magnitude larger than that of Willow Spring Basin, and by the time @mrs.turbodb whistled to me for lunch, I'd investigated perhaps an outcropping or two, hastily.

And so, as we sat there in our chairs - looking up at the granite and admiring the views - we discussed our strategy. We'd each pick a route, weaving our way through boulders, hunting for what we imagined were little red men on a granite slab. We'd do our best to cover as much ground as possible - a methodical approach.

For 30 minutes we searched. Then 45. Soon, we'd been looking for over an hour. By that time, we'd surely made some discoveries - though none of the Native American rock art variety. We'd found the perfect little cave, that could have been an oven. The inscription of ranchers, slightly less literate some 125 ago. And even a seismometer, "planted" by the University of Texas.

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Wind cave or pizza oven?​

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Laborious mistakes.​

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What say we give it a little shaky-shaky? ​

I'd be holding back the truth if I said we weren't just a little bit discouraged. At the same time, spending an hour in search of our our prize only steeled our resolve to continue the hunt. After all, we'd eliminated a good chunk of the possibilities, hadn't we?

We hunted for another hour. And then twenty minutes more. Surely, if we wandered up the canyon just a way, we'd find the figures there - gazing down on any passers-by. But no - while the canyon did hold an old mortared wall atop a granite dry fall, and a peek-a-boo view of the moon rising to our east - it did not reveal our ultimate goal.

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Eventually, we made our way back to the truck, our afternoon spent in suspense - searching for what, exactly, we still don't know. It could have been that we were only feet from success - a glance this way or that, enough to change the outcome. It was disappointing and thrilling, all at the same time. As good a reason as any to return!

And, our afternoon was not entirely in vain - over the course of our hunt, we gathered several hundred shotgun shells from the mouth of the canyon. All different colors, @mrs.turbodb especially had a splendid time - a real world Easter egg hunt, she laughed!

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Don't mind us, just picking up after you again.​

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A full load of disrespect.​

With the afternoon light getting longer, it was time to find camp. We'd spotted a place earlier in the day - closer to Granite Pass - that I'd figured for the perfect location - and so unhurriedly headed that direction, the views ever-changing in the light, calling to us to slow down and enjoy.

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We arrived at camp just after sunset, the sky still light and the air warmer than many of the nights before. Setting up the tent and prepping dinner went quickly, and we settled in to enjoy our evening activities, the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter shining bright in the sky above.

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It would be our last night in the preserve. After a week of adventure, we had only one more day of exploration before we'd high-tail it home. Keen to make it last, we stayed up later than usual - reading, watching an episode of Long Way Down, and simply enjoying the stars as they sped overhead toward tomorrow.

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Finally calling it a night, we crawled under our covers, @mrs.turbodb still unaware of the surprises I had in store for the next day...

 

If you search for a pre-2009 backseat it will provide a much more useful set up. I was fortunate to snag one and couldn't be happier. The 2009+ access cab back seats are garbage IMHO.

 

Awesome adventures as always! I was especially looking forward to reading the part about that silver 2nd gen towards the end. Still feeling dumb for chickening out on the chance to say 'hi.'

Too bad you didn't get the sunbeam experience at the lava tubes, but at least hopefully you didn't have a group of impatient instagram models rolling their eyes at you while you wasted their precious influencer sunlight.



Somewhere lost to snapchat and self-respect is a shot of me pulling my shirt up through its collar and posing suggestively for the instagrammers' photographer as he was setting up. They may have brought six million followers, but I brought human perfection and true artistic vision!

 

Dan, for what it's worth, I would recommend the high-wattage halogens as the best headlight option for your truck. I've followed at least part of your headlight saga on this thread, but forgive me if this is something you already knew or already tried. The approach below (adapted for 1st gen housings) did wonders for my 2nd gen truck. I'm not kidding, even if you gave me the best LED or HIDs ever made, I would sell them off and pocket the profit, because I'm just that pleased with my halogen headlights. Plus, halogen bulbs give a better spectrum for night driving, especially in poor weather conditions.


1. Buy new OEM-style headlamp housings. For example:

$43 DEPO 312-1150R-AC Replacement Passenger Side Headlight Assembly (This product is an aftermarket product. It is not created or sold by the OE car company)

https://www.amazon.com/Depo-312-1150R-AC-Assembly-Certified-Passenger/dp/B01C7PGTEQ

$41 DEPO 312-1150L-AC Replacement Driver Side Headlight Assembly (This product is an aftermarket product. It is not created or sold by the OE car company)

https://www.amazon.com/Depo-312-1150L-AC-Head-Assembly-Certified/dp/B01C7PGSRO

There appear to be dozens of options for aftermarket headlamp housings in the range of $50/ea. Some come with corner markers too. I used DEPO brand on my truck and was quite pleased. But the important thing is you get new OEM-style housings, with Toyota's original reflector design. You can get the "black" style, but not smoked lenses (duh), and no projectors or halos or other goofy stuff.

I wouldn't have believed that new housings made that much of a difference, but for my 15 year old truck, they absolutely did. So I guess I was lucky I accidentally broke one of my original lights last year. There's a huge reduction in glare during foggy/dusty driving, due to the crisp low-beam cutoff, and the lack of scattered light from the hazy, pitted old lenses and dusty reflectors. Even compared to a freshly polished ("restored") old lens, the new housing was remarkably better.


2. Buy the Hella 80/100W H4 bulbs. They're only six bucks each, buy a handful! (I'm recommending stockpiling because other high-wattage bulbs have gone out of production in recent years)

$8 Hella H4 100/80W High Wattage Bulb, 12V

https://www.amazon.com/HELLA-H4-100-80W-Wattage/dp/B000COBLKW


3. Install ceramic headlight sockets--these bulbs will run hotter. It looks like you can now buy a connectorized adapter:

$8 iJDMTOY H4 9003 Heavy Duty Ceramic Wiring Harness Sockets Compatible with High/Low Beam or Fog Lights

https://www.amazon.com/iJDMTOY-Ceramic-Harness-Sockets-Headlights/dp/B008DWPYO4

If you're happy with the lights, though, I would recommend cutting off the OEM connectors and making proper waterproof splices to the ceramic ones.

Note: Be warned that you could overheat your wiring or the lamp housings with the higher powered bulbs. I’m not sure what the limits are for any given vehicle, so you’ll have to do your own research and measurements to decide what is appropriate. Some folks recommend replacing the whole headlight circuit with new sockets, oversized wiring, and a heavy duty relay drawing power straight from the battery. In my case, I carefully studied the thermal and electrical performance of my headlights and wiring, and decided the only necessary upgrade was to replace the sockets with ceramic ones. Neither the wiring nor the housings get too hot, and even though there’s a bit of voltage loss in the factory wiring, it’s more than compensated by the fact that I’ve boosted my charge voltage to support an AGM battery. I'm also not sure how your DRL circuitry would affect things; my truck doesn't have DRLs.


4. Replace the bulbs annually, e.g., with your wiper blades. They are wear items. (And they cost less than wiper blades!) Plus, you can carry a spare bulb or two in your glovebox or repair kit, they are compact and weigh less than an ounce, and you can swap out a bulb in two minutes on the side of the road. I don't agree with the characterization that halogen bulbs are less reliable than LEDs or HIDs. They are less efficient and they wear out faster, yes, but they are a proven high-quality light source, and bulbs are trivial to replace in the field. Compare that to the risk of a fried aftermarket HID or LED ballast after splashing around in puddles. I've been running the 80/100W bulbs since a few days after I bought my truck three years ago and have never had a bulb burn out.


Without getting into the details, I think this is the only cost-effective way to improve headlight performance on our trucks. HID and LED "retrofit" kits are fundamentally incompatible with OEM style reflective housings, and although they seem brighter, they are dramatically worse in terms of glare. You have to spend close to $1k to do HIDs properly, and I'm not aware of any proper LED housings for our trucks, and to reiterate, both HIDs and LEDs emit much more blue light, which is worse for glare in fog/dust, and worse for visual acuity at night.

Picture time:


The cloudy light on the passenger side here is actually freshly "restored" using a multi-stage polishing compound with a power drill attachment. And I thought it looked brand new... until I saw it side by side with the new housing!


And here is why glare has been improved so much with the new housings. Both housings have brand-new 80/100 bulbs. This is taken from the same vantage point, at eye height in front of the truck. This is exactly where we don't want to shine any light in foggy conditions, because it creates a blinding wall of glare that obscures the view of the roadway. Note that I accidentally overexposed this shot, the difference in stray light was even more pronounced to the eye.


Here's the light pattern from the above situation. The new housing is illuminating the left side of the image. Note the band of stray light above the cutoff plane, coming from the right-side beam. It might not look like much, but this is immediately in front of the truck, right in my line of sight, whereas the roadway I need to see beyond it stretches hundreds of feet in the distance.


After replacing both housings, I was left with a crisp cutoff from both beams. This is taken with the same exposure and white balance on my cellphone. Note how precisely both beams are shaped. The slight asymmetry is intended and beneficial. This is why LEDs and HID retrofits don't work in OEM housings: They are designed exactly for the size and shape of an H4 filament. For various reasons, LEDs and HIDs cannot be made in the exact size and shape of an H4 filament. The result is that they don't form a proper beam in OEM reflector housings, which causes all the glare.


One more edit: After seeing what a huge difference new headlamps made, I immediately decided to replace my 180k-mile old windshield as well. My comprehensive policy covered it, no questions asked, so I was only out my deductible. It also made a huge difference in visibility when driving into the sunset or on 2-lane roads at night.

 

I also have a 2nd gen.

So if I'm reading that right, the TL;DR version is basically "Buy these bulbs and this adapter harness (linked above), plug your factory wiring into the harness and connect the other end of the harness to the new higher wattage bulb and voila!" (FWIW, my housings were replaced relatively recently after an accident, so they still look new)

 

As an old geezer who started driving when cars had sealed beam non-halogen lights, pretty much all modern headlights seem pretty amazing to me. Even old Toyota’s with fogged over plastic lenses. When I upgraded my old 80 Series to 80W halogen bulbs, even in the old housings and harness, I felt I had to be extra careful not to blind oncoming drivers. But it’s a good tip about improving the harness and socket. And a savvy observation that new bulbs are so cheap relative to other items. Two gallons of gas here in California