AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

But. . . but. . . but. . . your favorite pants! I know, only a pair of pants, but they can be like old friends.

Thanks again for sharing.

I think it's the old 80/20 rule, hoping it is a bit better than that -- 80% of people are respectful, 20% are just yeeting through life without a care for others. Unfortunately, it only takes 1 person. There's not really any good options for protecting a lot of places. Only letting guided/supervised tours into an area is probably the safest, just not economically feasible in most cases.

 

Following Comb Ridge to Moonhouse - Re-Ruined #3
Part of the Utah, Re-Ruined (Apr 2021) trip.

Headed north up Comb Wash, I didn't have far to go - a couple miles perhaps - before I reached the turn off to my next destination. Too, the road here was in great condition, making for quick travel times as I marveled at Comb Ridge through my windshield.

Note: Visiting Comb Wash requires a pass. For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.​

I'm always intrigued by the "solid arches" along ridges like this. I wonder what makes this formation so common?​

The north end of Comb Ridge.​

Soon, I was on a spur road leading west - not as nicely graded as North Comb Wash, but significantly better than Hotel Rock had been just a day before. I was on my way to the Monarch Cave Ruins - or, what I thought were the Monarch Cave Ruins at the time!

Ahead, the cave loomed large on the hillside; my anticipation grew.

There could be an entire city of ruins in there!​

Reaching the end of the spur, I pulled the truck into the shade of a Pinyon Pine and finally settled down for lunch. It had been nearly two hours since my stomach alarm had sounded - way back at the apex of my time in Arch Canyon - and by now the rumbling was enough to make me think I might need earplugs to make it another mile. A tuna sandwich, chips, and plenty of cool water satisfied my midsection and soon I was once again navigating my way up the side of a steep canyon to investigate its bounty.

Nearly there.​

Upon reaching Monarch Cave, I was initially surprised by two aspects of the cave. First - the floor. Covered in a fine powder some four- to six-inches deep, it was a minefield to walk through. Every step would raise a cloud of dust. As a result, my movements became measured and deliberate - each step taken only out of necessity. Second, the complete lack of ruins! This - at the time - was a bit disappointing. I'd been promised ruins, I found myself thinking, selfishly. I caught myself quickly - one should never expect ruins - and turned my attention to the wonder I had before me, because the cave was wondrous!*

* Note: Upon my return, a little research revealed that I was in the wrong location - the cave I explored was the Comb Wash Cave. The Monarch Cave - which I now must return to explore looks similar and is nearby, but I did not hike it!

It was at this point that a third aspect of the cave presented itself. A rhythmic dripping drew me to the back wall. There, from floor to ceiling were several stalagmites! Of all different heights, I could only imagine the centuries needed to build these amazing structures - one drop of water at a time. It was - I realized - even more special than ruins.

Century old soldiers.​

The view out of the cave was nothing to scoff at, either.​

My exploration complete, I wondered if perhaps the ruins I'd expected to find were nearby in the canyon. I searched for 10 minutes or so - obviously finding nothing, since I was in entirely the wrong place - before heading back to the Tacoma and south along Comb Wash.

Comb Ridge is such an interesting formation.​

While I'd continue to follow Comb Ridge for much of the afternoon, I first decided to take a short detour as I reached UT-95. Here, I headed west - just a few miles - to a two-mile long road heading south. This road, as one may have - at this point - presumed, led to ruins.

I followed a well-marked trail around the site, pausing at the towers, some of them in better condition than others.

A tower.​

Tower too.​

Tower with window.​

As I wandered, my eyes peeled, I noticed that the towers weren't the only ruins in the area - in fact, there were a series of cliff dwellings amongst the head of the canyon that looked even more intriguing to investigate.

There are at least three distinct dwellings in this photo, can you find them?​

Just as I was about to set out, I found myself wondering - "Why aren't these mentioned in any of the signage?" It was then that I realized that by focusing attention on the towers, the powers that be were deflecting attention from what are - perhaps - more fragile specimens. And so, a bit reluctantly, I reeled myself in and headed back the way I'd come. After all, it's not like I was going to be short on ruins this trip!

Retracing my steps along UT-95, I soon found myself descending the grade into Comb Wash, the entire length of Comb Ridge stretching out before me.

I had to stop - Comb Ridge was quickly becoming a personal favorite.​

A few minutes later, I turned south - now on South Comb Wash towards, well, the south. The road was wide an smooth. After a quick photo with the ridge stretching out next to me, it was easy to maintain a speed of 50mph - orange dust rising up in my wake.

Follow the ridge.​

I maintained that 50mph for the better part of half an hour before stopping again; perhaps my longest uninterrupted run of the entire trip. Comb Ridge was majestic the entire time, providing visual interest in both its profile - as well as my search for ruins - as I sped along its base.

Still following, some 25 miles later.​

Eventually I'd reach the southern tip of Comb Ridge, but not today. Today, I had one more set of ruins to visit - Moonhouse, several miles to the west. First however, I decided to check out an old homestead ruining away in the valley. There wasn't much left - and even less on the inside - but it was heated at one time, so likely used year-round for some agricultural purpose.

A home in the shadow of Comb Ridge. Not bad if you can get it.​

Never-ending.​

Not long after the homestead, Snow Flat Road split off to my right. Nicely graded - for the most part - as well, I followed it for the better part of 15 miles. Climbing up onto what I can only assume is Snow Flat, the landscape was as orange as ever, the La Sal Mountains serving as an omnipresent landmark to the north.

Leaving Comb Wash for higher elevations.​

Some nice clouds were developing in the late afternoon sky.​

I arrived at the parking area for the Moonhouse ruins just before 5:00pm. It was deja-vu all over again - I'd set off at about this time the previous evening for Hotel Rock! Tonight however, my hike was significantly shorter - some three miles round trip - and I figured no headlamp was necessary as I gathered up camera equipment for the relatively short hike to the ruins.

Note: Visiting Moonhouse requires a permit, and it's day use only. A maximum of 20 permits per day are issued on a first come, first-served basis. From March 1 through June 15 and September 1 through October 31 (high use seasons), 12 of the 20 spaces are available to reserve at the Cedar Mesa and Bears Ears National Monument Permits Recreation.gov page at least five days but no more than 90 days in advance of the entry date. The eight remaining spaces may not be reserved in advance and are only available by walk-in at the Kane Gulch Ranger Station on the morning of the hike. Permit fees are $5 per person during the high use seasons, including a $6 transaction fee for reservations. All permits (including reserved permits) must be picked-up in person at the Kane Gulch Ranger Station during the high use season. The maximum group size is 12 people.​

From June 16 through August 31 and November 1 through February 28 (low use seasons), Moon House permits must be reserved at the Cedar Mesa and Bears Ears National Monument Permits Recreation.gov page before arrival. For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.​

I had no idea at the time - frankly because I hadn't paid much attention when scouting the route - that I was in for several thousand feet of elevation gain, as I completely descended one side of the nearly vertical canyon before nearly ascending the - again nearly vertical - other side!

Not that I'm complaining. Not by a long shot.

A steep enough descent that rock stacking was required.​

My first view of Moon House, from the opposite side of the canyon. It was at this point that I started getting excited.​

The floor of the canyon was a reward in itself; walls rising high on each side.​

As I completed the final 30-vertical feet or so to Moonhouse, I had a decision to make: should I start here - at the main ruin - or should I investigate a nearby kiva, first? Ultimately I decided to save the best for last, and I continued the additional half-mile or so to the kiva.

Kivas were used by male Pueblo Indians for religious rites.​

Made of a couple of structures, this kiva was the first time I'd seen a wall built inside the outer wall. Recesses and openings Holes in the inner wall appeared to be a place to store things - perhaps used in the rituals - and the walls themselves were entirely covered in mud and extremely well finished.

I never realized how much wood was used - essentially as an early rebar - in some of these structures.​

Spring flowers, pushing up through the sandstone just a few feet from the entrance.​

Excited more than ever to check out Moon House, I quickly made my way back to the enormous - and well-preserved - ruin I'd come all this way for. Even from across the canyon, I'd noticed that there were several multi-colored pictographs, one of which I quickly made a beeline for upon my arrival.

I don't know why I find this so intriguing.​

Some of the structures here were totally perplexing - what could the purpose of these wooden rafters have been?

Perhaps floor (and wall) supports, now long collapsed?​

Others were much more traditional - though even the traditional structures had a level of finish that I'd not seen before.

Traditional brick buildings.​

Wooden rafters.​

Carefully applied decoration on the wall.​

Gracefully rounded wall. Likely a granary.​

Finally, it was time to check out the main structure. It was by far the largest ruin I'd ever seen at more than 60 feet long, and it was initially unclear how the Puebloans had gained access.

Moonhouse.​

Eventually however, I found the exterior door and made my way in. And that's when I knew I was somewhere really special. I'd expected - as with every other ruin I've visited - to look in the door and see the rock wall of the canyon angling down toward the floor; some rocks, rat scat, and perhaps a few stones scattered about. Here, I saw nothing of the sort. Rather, it was like entering an underground city street, the outer wall providing protection from the wind and rain for an entire community living inside.

A secret world.​

Holes in the outer wall allowed plenty of light to radiate in.​

A series of rooms.​

The walls were even painted with a - still, hundreds of years later - bright white design.​

Not only did the exterior wall provide protection from the elements, it also contained 27 "loop holes." These holes provided line of sight coverage of all angles of canyon access, the main ledge in front of the ruin and part of the canyon bottom. Common in many late period (late 1200s) structures on Cedar Mesa as well as the northern Colorado Plateau, current theories suggest that these holes may have served a defensive function as visitors approached settlement.

Loop holes allowed views of anyone approaching with no risk of being detected.​

This view shows exactly where I descended the canyon rim.​

Needless to say, I'd been blown away by Moonhouse. Having explored it for nearly an hour, I felt like I'd seen nearly everything and yet could continue to discover details for several more. Unfortunately, with sunset on the way - and 1500 feet of canyon to climb - it was time to get going.

Luckily, on my drive to Moonhouse, I'd spotted - and marked - a camp site that I thought would be an ideal place to wake up in the morning. Five miles away from the parking area, I nearly made it without having to turn on my lights - the lengthening days of spring a nice change from the 4:30pm sunsets of winter!

My own personal moon-house.​

My usual routine followed - dinner, a quick wash of my face and legs after a dusty day of hiking, and a few minutes transferring photos - before I extinguished the lights and fell asleep to a brilliant moon rising in the east. I felt redeemed after my experience with Lewis Lodge the day before, but I already had a plan brewing in my mind.

A plan - unbeknownst to me - destined for failure.

But a recovery that would lead to redemption, eventually.

 

I can understand the reasoning behind a single watchtower in a place like Moonhouse. But wonder what the relationship, if one, between other watchtowers in the Southwest. Were they used to communicate with others? To find animals for food? Visitors?

 

I know, my pants! Oh well, such is life, and I've already sewn them up (mediocrely, I'd say), so not all is lost. I'm always on the lookout for good camo cargos. I'm all ears if anyone knows of some that are not the "skinny" style, which seems to be all the rage these days with the hipsterlanders.

There wasn't really a watchtower at Moonhouse (at least that I saw), since they were able to see from their actual dwellings to the ridge lines. But many of the the towers were line-of-sight for message passing. My guess is that they were used for both hunting (alerting to game) as well as defense. Perhaps also for celebration. Sure is a bummer that the specific knowledge died with the civilizations; makes you wonder what beings of the future will think of the funny little devices that are all glass on one side and a single apple on the back, with pictures trapped inside.

 

But will they know what an apple is?

The UT State signage seems to hint that some structures may have been towers along the route. Makes you wonder how many others there may have been as well.

 

The moon house fyi is the largest ruin from this area i think in the entire North american continent. That's why it's super special.

or at least single largest single structure.

 

Repeat Failure, and Finally Redemption - Re-Ruined #4
Part of the Utah, Re-Ruined (Apr 2021) trip.

Having missed all the sunrises to this point, I made a point of actually getting up when my alarm went off after a calm night up on Snow Flat. Turns out, that's a good way to actually see a sunrise - who knew?

Layers.​

Looks like it's going to be a nice day!​

Comb Ridge silhouetted into the distance.​

Up early, I took care of breakfast and got the tent all packed away by the time rose up over the eastern horizon. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd get accomplished today, but I'd decided overnight to make one final run at Lewis Lodge - my ego slightly bruised from two previous failed attempts (one in 2019, and one just two days earlier). Third time's a charm, right?!

Before that though, I had several other places to visit, so I was happy to see that it was only 7:30am when I was nearly back to South Comb Wash and making my way to the very southern tip of Comb Ridge.

Note: Visiting Comb Wash requires a pass. For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.​

Comb Ridge and I had become good friends.​

With only ten miles or so to the end of the ridge and the San Juan River, I arrived early - just as the local residents were waking up and enjoying breakfast themselves.

Good morning sunshine.​

Nom nom.​

Destined for a(nother) Ancestral Puebloan ruin known as Riverhouse, I was surprised as I rolled up on a fenced area containing only a small ruin. Hoping that this was only a part of a larger complex, I popped out of the truck to discover that it was - in fact - something entirely different. It was the Rincone - ruins from a more recent white settlement - an old trading post with a storied past.

​

Relieved that I hadn't travelled the length of Comb Ridge for this - though, let's be real, I'd really enjoyed Comb Ridge! - I followed the road a little further until I found exactly what I was looking for. There, nestled in the cliff, was Riverhouse.

Found it!​

As usual, well sheltered from weather.​

Situated under a larger overhang, the first thing that caught my attention wasn't the ruin itself, but rather a pictograph drawn onto the sandstone wall above the dwelling. A bit more curvy or wavy, it wasn't identical to the one over Moonhouse, but it was darn close.

​

A similar pattern to the markings over Moonhouse.​

Perhaps this dwelling was made by the same - or at least by a related - family to the one a few canyons away. Perhaps the wavy line had a special meaning - a symbol to ward off evil spirits, or one of welcome? Whatever the relation, it was a cool find as I began my exploration of the area.

This dwelling was clearly multiple stories.​

I wonder if the original residents appreciated the orange glow of the cool sandstone as much as I did.​

Age old cobs, still here after so many centuries.​

Pictographs, many of the figures recognizable - crosses, snakes, spirals, and dozens of tiny hands.​

Always a favorite, anthropomorphs and big horn sheep.​

As one does - or perhaps learns to do - I eventually wandered off from the main ruin, looking for other nearby evidence of its ancient residents. Some pottery perhaps, or even other ruins nearby. I didn't find any of those things, but I did find several petroglyphs etched into the well patinaed sandstone cliff - some of them high enough that they likely required a ladder for creation!

Spirals represented life, apparently.​

​

This triangular pattern as similar to some I'd recently seen in thousands of miles away near Las Vegas.​

I also came upon this blooming cactus high on the wall!​

And with that, I retraced my steps to the truck, took a quick look at the GPS to determine my next destination, and began navigating my way north. From here, I had a few miles of dirt to UT-163, but then I'd have a long stretch of pavement - long enough that I figured airing up was worthwhile.

They should really call slickrock, stickyrock. I love this stuff.​

Airing up to cover some pound some pavement; the next few sites were light on the dirt.​

A dozen miles east on UT-163 was all it took for me to arrive at my next stop. I knew this one was going to be a bit different then the rest - what with it being a camp ground immediately next to the highway - but I figured I was so close that it'd be silly to not drop in.

The main Sand Island Petroglyph Panel is over 100 yards long, and is part of a series of panels that span nearly half a mile of patinaed sandstone. The rock art found here covers virtually the entire time that humans are known to have inhabited the four corners area. In fact, carbon dating of a sandal found in the showed that this spot was likely occupied as early as 6,500 BC. During each wave of habitation - the early Basketmaker period through the Pueblo III period, new art has been added to the panel. Even in more recent times, the Utes and Navajo left records in this spot that clearly had a special meaning to them.

A literal football field of art.​

Newer glyphs, chipped in on top of the older, patinaed art.​

An interesting mix of old and new. Patinaed art is old, but a man on a horse and the letters AE are likely much newer additions.​

A series of hands. I found the differing number of digits, intriguing.​

Coyote?​

I really liked this group of deer, big horn sheep, and a frog.​

There were several examples of an anthropomorph with three lines above its head.​

Bighorn sheep, always a popular muse, it seems.​

I think most people only really check out the main, well-signed panel that the BLM has fenced off and directed traffic towards. If you visit, I highly recommend walking the entire cliff side - from the large panel to the campground entrance - to enjoy the glyphs spread out along its length. They aren't nearly as prolific as the large panel, but they are nonetheless striking, and worth a few minutes of time.

Geometric shapes from a nearby panel.​

Even exploring the nearby panels, the entire stop at Sand Island probably didn't take more than half an hour or so, and soon I was cruising my way back west on UT-163 towards Mexican Hat. I didn't know much about this section of road, except that following it would take me to Goosenecks State Park, so when I realized that my view for much of the time would be of the Valley of the Gods, I was quite thrilled - enough that I found myself a little perch along the way to snap a photo.

An unexpected delight.​

Where UT-163 meets UT-261, I had a decision to make: head for Goosnecks first, and Mexican Hat (for fuel) second - to ensure a topped off tank as I continued on my way - or swap the order and save a bit of backtracking. I mistakenly opted for the former, thereby retracing my steps a few times in order to keep an extra half gallon of fuel in the Tacoma.

Obviously, it didn't matter all that much - I think we're talking something on the order of six miles of backtracking - so I tried to put it out of my mind as I pulled up to the Goosenecks entrance station. It was $5 for a day pass - about 23 hours and 45 minutes longer than I'd need - but it didn't take me long to feel like the entrance fee was money well spent.

Meandering.​

The meandering pattern originated several million years ago when the San Juan River was flowing on a relatively flat plain. It became entrenched when the entire Colorado Plateau was slowly uplifted. Cutting downward, the San Juan followed its initial pattern, a process that - obviously - continues to this day. It's a slow process though - there's only about 7 inches of rain here, annually!

With nothing else to do at Goosenecks - literally, the park brochure states "Please note: There are no hiking or bike trails within the Park. Intensely hot during the summer months, there is no shade." - I headed out just a few minutes after pulling in. With a wave to the attendant, I headed south towards Mexican Hat to fill up the Tacoma and snap a few photos of the photogenic rock that gives this place its name.

I had no idea that there was an actual rock that gave this place its name.​

An upside down sombrero?​

Now, had I made it to Lewis Lodge on the first day of this trip, Mexican Hat would have been my last stop before pointing the truck north and heading home. However, given that it was only a bit after noon, that I hadn't made it to Lewis Lodge on the first day of the trip, and that I hadn't seen any snow on the trails I'd travelled so far, I'd hatched a plan the previous evening to work my way north on UT-261 in order to give Lewis Lodge one more shot.

I'd approach it from Bears Ears, via the route - one may recall - I'd been told was impassable. Hopefully, everyone was wrong.

This was the reason I'd attempted access via Hotel Rock.​

If nothing else, the drive north was fantastic. Initially heading past Valley of Gods, I approached the Moki Dugway with incredulity.

The road goes up that cliff, somewhere.​

Switchbacks and an 11% grade.​

Upon reaching the top, the skyline opened up and there in the distance was a landmark I knew well - Bears Ears National Monument. As the road undulated up and down over the rolling landscape, the buttes grew larger and larger, the lack of snow not lost on the guy behind the steering wheel.

Note: Visiting Bears Ears National Monument requires a pass. For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.​

My confidence was building.​

I was going to make it!​

My confidence continued to build as I climbed up Maverick Point Road - not a lick of snow to be seen, and the roads - which I knew could be impassably slick in muddy conditions - were dry as a bone. It was only about a quarter mile below the summit that I realized every view I'd had so far - and the road over which I'd been travelling - had been from the south. Of course there was no snow on this side!

And then, I crested the summit. Uh oh.

Was I going to make it?​

Flipping the truck into 4WD, I continued on cautiously. There was nothing about this snow - only 1-6" deep at this point - that would pose any sort of problem, and the road underneath was muddy but not overly slick, so I continued on. And then, about a mile past the summit I crested a small rise and my heart fell.

Well, this is a problem.​

I knew immediately that this poor Ford hybrid was stuck - there was no way it couldn't be. My initial thought - to throw it in reverse and head out the way I'd come - was strong, but stronger was my understanding that this person could be in real trouble - and there were few (if any) in a better position to help than me.

I stopped the truck, tromped through the snow, and introduced myself. The relief on the 67 year old woman's face was obvious. She hadn't been stuck long - luckily - but there was no way she was getting out under her own - not with a tupperware to dig, and front wheel drive.

I asked her where she was headed, and her answer - "Bears Ears" - was unfortunate. "Oh man," I said, "You passed it a mile ago!"

Turns out, it was a situation where directions given via Google Maps to Bears Ears National Monument result in a destinatino at the middle of the monument, rather than the actual Bears Ears. With a little understanding - or even reading of signs on the side of the road, rather than blindly following the GPS - this entire situation could have been avoided.

Completely high centered on the flat underbelly of the vehicle, I spent the next two-and-a-half hours with a shovel, USActionTrax Recovery Boards, and a tow strap getting her pulled out and to a spot where she could turn around safely.

Not an easy extraction.​

After a lengthy recovery, and the subsequent clearing of the road, I was able to continue on - for about another half mile or so until the road became impassable for me as well - this time, due to mud.

I'd failed at reaching Lewis Lodge, again! The third time was most definitely not the charm. (Though, I suppose it was good I'd made the attempt.) And so, tail between my legs, I barreled back down the way I'd come - all the way to UT-95 where I'd turned off onto Maverick Point Road. I had one more trick up my sleeve, one more shot at redemption: I was going to attempt the same route to Lewis Lodge that we'd tried nearly two years earlier!

That meant a few miles of pavement - east on UT-95 - through the Comb Ridge road cut and to Cottonwood Wash Trail. This, I knew from experience, was a nicely graded road - so even though I was getting a late start, I hoped that if I did finally reach the trailhead, I'd have just enough time to complete my mission before heading for home.

As I climbed up Cottonwood Wash, I eventually turned west onto South Elk Ridge. So far, things were looking good - there was no snow to speak of as I climbed through 6,500' and the location we'd previously been stopped in our tracks.

Our turnaround point in 2019.​

With each hundred feet of elevation - I had to make it to 8,000' before my turn off on Milk Point Road - I waited to see snow. Again and again, I was surprised and delighted that none of the white stuff was present on the trail. And then - my turn off! It was all downhill from here until I reached the parking area with a huge grin on my face. It was a little after 4:00pm - plenty of time to scramble my way down the side of a canyon, I hoped.

Well hello there, what good taste you have in vehicles!​

The trail to Lewis Lodge was slightly longer - but significantly easier - than the previous evenings excursion to Moonhouse. There was really only one spot - a narrow ledge that looked more difficult than it was - that was any cause for concern. And the views - well, they started almost as soon as I reached the edge of the canyon.

​

There it sat - high up in the canyon wall - in a seam between the harder, lighter top layer and lower, softer bottom layer of sandstone...

​

The elusive - for me - Lewis Lodge.

​

A long way down.

Like Moonhouse, descent to the level cliff dwellings took place on the opposite canyon wall. This afforded me some nice photos, and likely afforded some amount of early warning to residents if trouble was approaching. Making my way around to the main ruins, several smaller structures caught my attention.

Appetizer ruins.​

Eventually, I reached an entrance wall of sorts. Built across the entire width of the ledge, a single pathway allowed access to the main structures. I must say, it was unnatural to step on and through this structure - so trained am I to keep off of these historic ruins.

The way in.​

On the other side of the gate, the thing I was most struck by was the sheer size of the land mass that Lewis Lodge covered. The ledge extended for a good quarter mile or more, and in several places was 30 feet deep from the back wall to cliff edge. As expected, many buildings once stood here, though visitation must be relatively high as they weren't in nearly as good shape as others I'd seen. Still, how often does one get to wander through history such as this?!

Inside a kiva; again, shelves built into the smoothly finished walls.​

Kiva view.​

Crumbling ruins.​

Protective covering.​

A village.​

Watch your step.​

Sunstar through stone.​

Morteros - only a few of dozens overlooking the valley.​

The ruins weren't the only thing that captured my attention. The canyon walls too were not to be overlooked - not due to pictographs or petroglyphs, which I was slightly surprised to see absent - but due to the sandstone itself!

Swoosh!​

Stripes.​

I spent a good forty-five minutes poking around the site before pulling myself away to start the journey back to the Tacoma. While it might seem that the uphill return would be less fun, I always find it more enjoyable than the descent as I'm leaning into the hill and thus feel a bit more stable. Plus, there's less route finding and thus faster progress.

Nature's ladder.​

It was 6:15pm when I reached the Tacoma - still before sunset, but a little late late to be starting a 21 hour journey back to the Pacific Northwest. Only briefly did I consider spending the night - after all, besides the dark and lack of food stuffs, night driving is quite pleasant - there's less traffic, no daylight wasted, and a fabulous reward at the end of the journey.

Heading down and out, redeemed!​

I couldn't believe my luck, really - the trip had been a huge success. With three full days of exploration, I'd accomplished all I'd set out to see - despite several roadblocks along the way.

And I knew one thing for certain as I pointed the truck north and headed toward Moab - there was no way this would be my last trip to Cedar Mesa!

 

Nice trip Dan, great write up as usual
There are definitely a few spots out that way that are on my next trip list- those switchbacks made a very nice descent from the plateau. A bit sketchy in Hector- the A108 camper van, Hector had good brakes but with a nearly 5k# GVW, so it was a little edgy.


There are if memory serves correctly, several definitions of the spiral petroglyphs, depending on which native culture, but one that sticks is a gateway between world or somewhat tied in with the spirals of the galaxy. There are a couple spots in Chaco where they are located with regards to shadows at certain times intersecting the spirals at specific times of the year.
Rats now I have to dig out the book I got down there and look into that a bit deeper.

 

Rig Review: What worked and what didn't on Utah, Re-Ruined?
Part of the Utah, Re-Ruined (Apr 2021), Owyhee Outback (Mar 2021) trips.

April 14, 2021

When I started Rig Reviews several years ago, I quickly found that after addressing a few significant items, most trips seemed to go smoothly, with relatively few notable issues - good or bad - cropping up along the way. But, on my last trip to Utah, that was far from the case. In fact, though most were minor, there were so many this time that I feel it worth listing them here, just to drive the point home:

• Passenger rear indicator lamp has burned out
• Driver front marker lamp has burned out
• Hella HIDs fail to turn on, sometimes
• Two rear bolts of the front skid plate sheared off
• Bushings for both lower control arms (LCA) are squeaking
• Bushings for the front diff are disintegrating
• The alignment is out
• The garage door opener installed in the headliner needs fixing
• The pole bag for the CVT RTT has a hole in it

Whew. Let's get to it.

Burned out Lamps (new, resolved)
TL;DR - Bulbs burn out. Replace them and move on.

I noticed on this trip that my passenger rear indicator wasn't working when I got out of the Tacoma to take a photo of it in the middle of the highway as I descended into the Valley of Gods. I'd already known that my driver front marker wasn't working. Since it's good practice to replace bulbs in pairs, I've ordered and installed new bulbs for both rear indicators and both front markers, and installed them.

• Rear indicator: 1156LL Sylvania Long Life Bulb (Pack of 10)
• Front marker: 168.TP Sylvania Bulb (Pack of 10)

Hella HIDs fail to turn on, sometimes (new)
TL;DR - I need to figure out why my Hella's don't come on all the time. Low priority though for me right now.

I noticed on this last trip (or at least recently) that the Hella's - into which I installed HIDs - don't always come on when power is supplied to them. I don't know if this is the result of cold weather or failing ballasts or what, but I'll eventually need to get to the bottom of it. My guess is that it's something to do with the ballasts, which are part of the DDMTuning Ultra HID Kit (55W) and have a lifetime warranty, so I'm not that worried.

Two rear bolts of the front skid plate sheared off (new, resolved)
TL;DR - I replaced the bolts with grade 8 versions, hopefully solving the problem for good.

I was not happy to discover that two bolts were "missing" from the rear holes of the front skid plate halfway through my first trail in Utah. I was even less happy when I attempted replacement and discovered that the heads of both bolts had sheared off, making a trail fix much more difficult. I can only assume that the bolts I had installed were "standard grade" bolts, and some reasonably bash of the skid plate, or constant vibration, caused them to shear. After extracting the remaining bolt from each mounting point, I've replaced them with Grade 8 bolts, and suspect that they won't be an issue any longer.

​

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LCA and front diff bushings are in need of replacement; plus I need an alignment (new)
TL;DR - Like lights, bushings wear out, and I'll be replacing several on the front of the truck. The LCA bushings are likely the cause of my misalignment as well, so I'll get that addressed after I replace the bushings.

Over the last few trips, the bushings in my lower control arms have been getting louder and louder. This is understandable - they are after-all, original and 21 years old. Additionally, when I removed the front skid plate to extract and replace the bolts in the rear mounts, I noticed that the front diff bushings are also completely worn, so those will need to be replaced as well.

I'll be replacing the LCA bushings with Strongflex Lower Control Arm Bushings (Tacoma, 4Runner), and the front diff bushings with Durobump Front Diff Bushings.

​

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The garage door opener installed in the headliner needs fixing (new)
TL;DR - The trim piece for the garage door opener fell off on a bumpy trail. I need to secure it...more securely.

When I installed the garage door opener in the headliner - still one of my favorite mods from a convenience perspective - it was difficult to get the trim piece to clip into the control module due to the thickness of the headliner. Over time, it's worked its way out, and it finally fell out on a bumpy trail in the Owyhee Outback. I'm thinking that either a bit of glue, or some other simple trick will get it to seat more permanently and I can go back to enjoying the convenience of opening garage doors without exiting the Tacoma!

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My Horn/Hazard Fuse has Blown Twice (resolved)
TL;DR - Everything is working again.

I replaced one of my Fiaam Freeway Blasters - that wasn't working at all - with the original horn, which I'd saved for some reason when I replaced it. Everything seems to be working again - albeit not quite so loudly - and no more blown fuses. I'm pretty sure that non-working horn was shorting out and blowing the fuse.

The Windshield Has Seen Better Days (resolved)
TL;DR - I'm loving a new, clear windshield. I should (but won't) make this an annual maintenance item.

After getting the windshield fixed, it's amazing how much more pleasant it is to drive - especially when driving into the sun. I can't recommend fixing your windshield enough if you can find somewhere that will do it for a reasonable price, and without leaks.

The pole bag for the CVT RTT has a hole in it (new, resolved)
TL;DR - Dropping poles into the RTT pole bag is asking for trouble. Nothing a little sewing can't fix, though.

Not much to say here except that through normal use, the pole bag will wear out (or holes will be worn into the bottom of the bag as poles are dropped in). Pick up a needle and thread and fix it yourself; there's really no reason to put up with the inconvenience of poles falling through, or buying a new bag.

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Seemingly solved from previous Rig Reviews

1. My Horn/Hazard Fuse has Blown Twice (resolved) - as noted above.
2. The Windshield Has Seen Better Days (resolved) - as noted above.

Unchanged / Still an issue from previous Rig Reviews

There are some things that have been featured in Rig Reviews that are - as yet - unchanged from when I originally reviewed them. Rather than highlight those things again, I'll simply link to them here.

1. Oil Leaking from Transfer Case - I haven't done anything about this yet, though I seem to be getting less leakage.
2. Relentless Skid Plate Attachment - I haven't addressed this at all, yet, because I haven't needed the mid-skid in a while.
3. The Drawer in the In-Cab Battery Cabinet Rattles - unaddressed. Still rattles.
4. Front ADS Coilover Spherical Bearings - I'm giving the new FK stainless steel bearings several thousand miles to see if they perform better.
5. The Zipper on the CVT Tent is Shit - I don't know how I'll ever address this, short of getting a GFC.

 

Before I had money and always drove older used vehicles, one of the first things I would do is replace any rubber bushings on the front end, and likely tie-rod ends. Amazing how much slop it eliminates and tightens up the front end, and is usually pretty cheap. Also amazing how long people will drive on blown shocks/struts, usually had to do those as well.

 

Turbodb .I love reading about your adventures and looking at the awesome pictures taken along the way. I hope you continue posting about future explorations. Have you ever thought about venturing farther east? Would love to see you exploring the great lake state. Michigans upper peninsula has some awesome attractions like Pictured rocks, Tahquamenon falls, and Copper peak. Thanks for sharing and hope to see another trip soon.

 

Lol yes east.

 

Hey Ryan, glad you're enjoying the stories, and photos. The plan is to keep posting as long as I'm able bodied and can stand the long drives to get places, hahahaha. Probably for a long time to come anyway.

I'd love to get to the midwest, for sure. The trouble for me is twofold: (1) distance and (2) route planning. Of course, I'm sure I could get quite a ways from a distance perspective, and we've definitely been venturing further and further east over the years (in search of new stuff). With route planning, it's really about where to go. There's just so much info (b/c there's so much to see/public land) in the western states, and it feels harder to find stuff in the midwest and further east. But, I'm sure I'll end up over there sometime. How could I not - it's a whole new adventure!

At first I thought he was going to suggest Alaska or Hawaii, but then I realized what he meant. I mean, I do live on the Pacific Ocean. ... Though I'd love to do Alaska, and Hawaii would be cool if there were more trails; there sure are plenty of Tacomas!

 

@turbodb how many miles are on your tacoma ? certainly enjoy your epic adventures !!

 

Our First Day Scouting - Black Rock Desert #1
Part of the Scouting Black Rock Desert (Apr 2021) trip.

Burning Man. I've never been and don't really ever feel like I will have the need to go, but the location - a big flat playa in the middle of a bunch of wilderness - has always intrigued me. Then, while I was researching side trips for our trip along the Nevada Backcountry Discovery Route (NVBDR) last year, I stumbled upon a few photos of High Rock Canyon, just north of the Black Rock Desert - wow!

The desert turned out to be too far from the NVBDR for us to make the trip at the time, but ever since it's been nagging at me to check it out. So, with a few days available, @mrs.turbodb and I decided that we ought to check it out. Bonus points that it was only 11 hours away! It was 7:30am when we climbed into the Tacoma, and it was 6:30pm when we headed east through Cedarville and only a few minutes later when we found ourselves turning into our first stop - the Massacre Ranch.

This is a much nicer, more modern cabin, than I was expecting.​

Turns out this cabin is one of a series of cabins in the area maintained by the BLM, and is used regularly on a first come, first serve basis.​

Early stories suggested that forty settlers were killed near this location, but later (more reliable) studies doubt whether any massacre actually occurred here. Whatever the case, everything there now is much newer, and with the sun setting over the horizon, we continued south towards our designated camp site.

Time to get to camp while we still have some light.​

We arrived at Stevens Camp to dwindling light, but way earlier than we usually make camp on the first night of a trip - a fact we were both thrilled with. At the head of Upper High Rock Canyon, we found a level spot and setup the tent - leaving our investigation of this also-very-nice-looking cabin until morning.

A small stream gurgled nearby, lulling us to sleep.​

We slept well, the temperatures in the upper 30s and the breeze slight enough to be inconsequential. Unbeknownst to me, @mrs.turbodb had set her alarm for 4:00am - this area having been designated as the fourth International Dark Sky Sanctuary in early 2019. As she scrambled to silence the ongoing racket, I took a quick look out the tent door and made one simple statement: "I think the moon is still up, look at our shadow." And with that, we went back to sleep. There would be no getting up to see the Lyrid Meteor Shower, since the dark sky was... rather light.

Well, back to sleep until my alarm went off at 5:30am - just in time to catch the orange hue of sunrise on the horizon.

Desert sunrise.​

15 minutes later, the few clouds in the sky picked up some good color.​

At this point, I was awake, and I knew we had a full day ahead of us, so I threw on my clothes and climbed out of the tent to look around a bit. The area around Stevens Camp was reasonably sagebrush-y, so I made my way up a little hill behind camp to see if I could get a better view.

Nestled in a valley.​

I wandered around for a bit - mostly investigating a spring I found on the hillside - before heading back down to camp to show off my discovery and start poking around the cabin. It was good timing too, because as I arrived back in camp, I found strawberries and Cheerios being prepared on the tailgate!

A shed antler; left for a future explorer to find.​

Nicely maintained. The small extension on the right is even a shower with hot water!​

Palatial accommodations. I've never seen such a well-maintained cabin. Main living space, a shower, and two additional bedrooms.​

A sign in the cabin gave a bit of history

We looked around as long as there was cereal in our bowls, and then a quick wash-up and pack-up of the tent were all that stood between us and getting under way.

Heading south on the Applegate Trail into High Rock Canyon.​

Interestingly, our plan for the morning started off with us looking for a locked gate - something we generally try to avoid. Of course, in the back of our minds we hoped it wasn't locked, but all the route planning I'd done prior to departure was clear: the road is closed from Feb 1 to the second weekend in May to protect the historic Emigrant Trail and the local wildlife during breeding season.

Entering the canyon.​

And there's the sign.​

And so, we turned around, this point marking the start of a loop we planned to do through the region, the end of the loop terminating at - we expected - a locked gate at the other end of the High Rock Canyon where we planned to hike part of the canyon on foot.

Retracing our steps, we made a quick stop at a T-rail marker we'd seen on along the side of the road. Over 700 of these have been placed along the Oregon and California Trails by the non-profit Trails West, and we first discovered them on our Nevada BDR trip.

APPLEGATE TRAIL - LEAVING HIGH ROCK CANYON

Next came to a beautiful meadow of fine grass and well watered. It was indeed a cheering sight...we could, once more, see daylight, which was pleasant after being shut up so long in dark defiles. - B.R. Biddle, 1849​

At that point, we'd planned to continue back out past Stevens and Massacre Camps, but we found a side road that appeared to go through and decided we might as well give it a shot!

On our way!​

This initial part of the route was rather bland - lots of sagebrush as we wandered through the landscape. Eventually we found ourselves on NV-34, a nicely graded - though dusty - gravel highway that would take us to Gerlach and the Black Rock Desert, save for a few interesting stops along the way.

Wheeeeee!​

Despite the nicely graded road, my perception is that not much traffic passes this way, save for the time right around Burning Man, and perhaps a few ranchers out to check their growing steak supply. Along the route, an old cabin caught our eye and we pulled over for a look.

Nameless homestead.​

The stove could use a refresh.​

Current residents.​

A little further along, we saw the first of what would be dozens of wild horses along our loop. In fact, we may have seen more horses than cows on this journey, and they all looked a little lean after winter - their long-haired coats shedding for summer, and ribs poking out here and there as green shoots of grass made their welcome return with spring.

"I'm gonna stick close to momma, thank you very much."​

A watchful eye.​

Continuing south, the Lund Petrified Forest was our next stop along the way. Once dominated by a forest of towering giants, this area was once part of the Leadville Mining District. At that time, George W. Lund was enraged as he watched uranium prospectors blast and then bulldoze tons of petrified wood onto trucks for commercial exploitation. He spent many years and much of his own money organizing meetings writing letters and posting signs, and on occasions even made trips to the Nevada State Legislature to lobby for legislation to preserve and conserve areas of petrified wood in Nevada.

Scientific investigation has revealed more than 250 mappable occurrences of petrified wood remains, though only a few large specimens remain - the two most prominent now encased in chain link fence to prevent collectors and tourists from dismantling what little is left. It was - certainly - a sad sight, upon our arrival.

This trunk 8-foot diameter was petrified in an upright position, some 15 million years ago.​

Tight growth rings, forever preserved.​

Our mood a bit dampened, we didn't spend much time at the petrified forest, instead opting to continue south into the wide open landscape, its serene beauty working its magic to re-raise our spirits.

Wide open spaces.​

Soon enough, we came to a short spur that would take us to (what I'd noted as) a ghost town from the Leadville Mining District days, but really turned out to be the ruins of a mining camp. It was quite obvious up on the side of the hill, and we easily made our way up to the tailings pile, where we hopped out of the truck to look around.

Onto old mining roads.​

Modern day parking pad.​

As we wandered around, there wasn't much left of this camp to see. Likely a combination of relatively easy access, as well as the extreme weather that rolls through this area during the winter, not much remained - only a single corrugated metal structure, wooden supports for an old rail line, and a car that had seen happier days.

Interestingly, two doors on this structure.​

Trestle to cart tailings to the edge of the pile.​

Still less rust than a 1st gen Tacoma. ​

A commanding view.​

Without much to look at, we soon headed back to the truck and retraced our steps to NV-34, the snow capped Granite Peak rising nearly 9000' to our southwest. As usual, we made good time until we didn't - our squirrel-like attention span quickly engaged as we encountered the largest box of animal cookies we'd ever seen, along the side of the road. This was a nice distraction for us, since our planned stop at the nearby Fly Geyser was a bust; on private land, it was closed and well-guarded by CCTV due to COVID-19.

High speeds. For about five minutes.​

I must have eaten hundreds of boxes of these things as a kid.​

Ahh, now I get it. Also explains the red velvet fur covering the entirety of the interior.​

Spring was starting to make itself known.​

As we neared Gerlach - yes, we were making progress, if slowly - access roads to the Black Rock Desert Playa started to pop up on the side of the road. This was - as one can imagine - too much for us to pass up, and we abandoned the smooth, graded highway in favor of the much smoother, ungraded playa, for the last 12 miles or so into town. It was an unplanned foray onto the desiccated surface, and an unexpected joy given that I'd not planned to get out onto the playa until the following day!

It always seems a little wrong to me to drive on a playa, but I must admit that it's a feeling like no other.​

We had one final stop before town, and that was along Guru Road. This is a weird road that's been adopted by a guy named Dooby. Adopted might be the wrong word - it's more like he's painted a ton of rocks in ways that you might expect in the middle of the desert and just a few miles the site of Burning Man - and built a few shrines for various purposes. It was less than I'd expected, and it seems to change over time as well - a sculpture that @mrs.turbodb had seen a photo of and thought was interesting, wasn't there, for instance.

The Black Rock Hitching Post and Chapel.​

Dooby Vision.​

This blue-bellied western fence lizard was actually the highlight of Guru road, for me.​

Finally, we reached Gerlach. I say "finally," but it was still only about 11:30am so we were doing just fine from a progress perspective on our day - it's just that we'd been hungry for the last hour or so, and were looking forward to the tuna sandwich fixings that @mrs.turbodb had prepped before we left home. So after topping off the Tacoma at the local fuel station, we found a nice little spot in the center of town - a shady gazebo with a picnic bench - and chowed down on sandwiches and chips as we chatted with a local resident about the surrounding area. Oh, and we admired some of the art on a nearby semi-trailer, which was quite nicely done.

Imagine.​

Lunch didn't take more than twenty minutes or so - as it turned out, there were lots of gnats in town, so we didn't linger - and soon we were back in the truck and headed east. Well, almost. See, we were unexpectedly stopped on our way out of town by something we'd never predicted...

 

found you originally on FB - love the adventure stories

 

Burning Man Center Camp - Black Rock Desert #2
Part of the Scouting Black Rock Desert (Apr 2021) trip.

Lunch didn't take more than twenty minutes or so - as it turned out, there were lots of gnats in town, so we didn't linger - and soon we were back in the truck and headed east. Well, almost. For five minutes or so we were stopped at the train crossing on the way out of town as an excavator loaded itself onto a train car and then balanced itself between the car and a truck that pulled it off down the tracks. Cool!

"Let me just lift myself up and slide this rail car under my track, please hold."​

"This looks safe, let's go."​

With that, we really were headed east along Jungo Road, our sights set on a destination far to the south - away from the playa - a ghost town called "Tunnel Camp" in the Seven Troughs Mountains. But, as usual, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself...

Headed east, Old Razorback Mountain (Trego Mountain) rising up before us.​

Our route took us south - past Rabbit Hole Spring - a place we'd stop on our way back - and onto the 2077 road before spitting us out an hour or so later on 7 Troughs Road. This part of the route followed the historic Applegate Trail, and @mrs.turbodb had a nice National Historic Trail Interpretive Guide from the NPS that gave us some history as well as information about the various T-rail markers that were posted along the way.

Following the Applegate Trail.​

Having woven our way through the landscape, and after a short stint on the nicely graded 7 Troughs Rd, we turned off onto Tunnel Camp road, where we'd approach the ghost town from the north.

"Hey uhh, don't eat my grass."​

A mile or so before we reached Tunnel Camp, I noticed the foundation of a mill on the hillside and we pulled over for a look. Nestled into the mouth of Seven Troughs Canyon, this was once the site of a town named Mazuma - a mining town that was washed away in 1912 by a flash flood that created a 20-foot wall of water that killed 9 victims and ruined the town past the point of repair.

Old mill with a storied past.​

The foundation of the mill used local material for aggregate.​

Like the surviving residents of Mazuma, we made our way over to Tunnel Camp along the old mining road. There, the first structure that greeted us put a smile on my face - it was a dugout, and for some reason I can't really put my finger on, I really love dugouts.

One of us is napping.​

This dugout was a dwelling - not storage - from what I could see on the inside. Probably helped to regulate temperatures, year round.​

Not a bad view.​

As with many buildings one finds these days, the interior of this dugout was in tough shape. Careless visitors, rodents of all sizes, and the weather take a toll on these structures over the years, and before we know it, there won't be any left. But, until then, I'll continue to enjoy them and the treasures they hold - in this case, a living resident doing its best to keep warm in the afternoon sun.

"I see you."​

"You aren't going to eat me, are you?"​

One of the larger, darker, blue bellied western fence lizards I've seen, this guy was a foot long and nearly black on top, beating out the specimen from Guru Road earlier in the day by a good 2 inches or so. I chased him around for awhite to get my shots, and then we headed off to explore the rest of the mine camp.

Tunnel Camp was built in 1927 with a bunkhouse, a company store, and a number of very cool looking houses - the roofs curved as opposed to gabled.

Interesting roof style.​

More modern visitors have adopted this cabin, apparently.​

Mechanicals shop.​

Graffiti.​

I liked the open/airiness these windows provided.​

Two mills were constructed - one 5-stamp, and one ball-and-cyanide - to process ore from the mining operations in the nearby canyons. The plan - and hence name of the camp - was to build a tunnel through the mountain to process ore from the Seven Troughs, Coalition, Fairview, and Mazuma mines, as well as drain them of water that had begun to fill them from below.

Unfortunately, while the mills were erected and operated for a short time at Tunnel Camp, the actual tunnel was never functional. Somehow - since it seems that connecting tunnels are reasonably common in mining - excavation of this one was misaligned and did not connect to the mines it was intended to drain. Oops.

Today, much of the foundation of the old cyanide and stamp mills remain below an iron 5 stamp mill. Around it, several large ore hoppers - which metered ore into the stamp mill for crushing - stand tall on the landscape, ore still remaining to this day.

The stamp mill remains on site to this day.​

Five stamps. By Joshua Hendy Machine Works, S.F.​

Having parked and then walked around the majority of the camp in order to enjoy it at a more leisurely pace, we contemplated our next move as a UTV approached from the south. We hoped it would simply pass by, but we had no such luck. Happy to keep our distance, we climbed into the truck to drive to the upper level of the tailings pile - letting the UTVers roar around the main area of camp.

We actually got a nice surprise above the tailings pile - a second old dugout! This one was quite large and in great condition on the exterior, though the inside was trashed as per usual. Construction of the dugout appeared to be traditional framing, and then the building was buried.

Note the more traditional roof shape.​

The exterior door was barn-style, though it's now laying on the ground. A second interior door swung inward.​

And with that, we wrapped up our time at Tunnel Camp - though we did make a short stop at the cemetery, where the nine folks killed in the Mazuma flood were buried, before heading north again towards the Black Rock Desert Playa.

An alternate route north allowed for higher speeds on well graded roads.​

Approaching Rabbit Hole Springs.​

When I'd planned the trip, I'd thought that we'd spend the night somewhere around Tunnel Camp, but as we'd driven by the Playa earlier in the day, I realized it would be a shame to camp anywhere but on its flat surface. As it was already 4:00pm as we headed back, we were both glad for the fast, smooth surface of 7 Troughs Road and an alternate route back to Rabbit Hole Spring that was in much better condition than the trail we'd followed south. What had taken 90 minutes on the way out, took only 45 on the way back and soon we found ourselves at Rabbit Hole Spring, which is now a series of manmade reservoirs.

Rabbit Hole Spring.​

There, two more wild horses were quite skittish as we approached, trotting off to a safe distance before turning around to keep an eye on us as we walked around - checking out the spring, the Applegate Trail T-rail marker, and a small set of ruins of unknown origin.

Black beauty.​

Too small for a dwelling; perhaps an old storage building?​

Still keen to get back to the playa and with a couple more stops before we'd arrive, we didn't spend much time at the spring before climbing back into the Tacoma and continuing to push north, and then west. Our destination was Trego Hot Spring, but along the way we made a quick pit stop at a T-rail marker that was actually on the old wagon trail, about 75 yards from the modern day Jungo Road.

And I definitely wanted to see the old wagon trail.

If you ignore the modern day (disrespectful) motorcycle tracks, this is the two-track wagon road from the mid-1800s!​

Just a mile or two further west, we came to Trego Hot Springs. When we first arrived, we thought the springs were entirely dried up, as what looked like a previously marshy area next to the road - and behind a fence to keep people from driving on it - was little more than yellowing grass and a dried mud surface. However, a bit further up the road we started to see water, and just as we reached the railroad tracks that separate the playa surface from the sagebrush surroundings, there was the spring - alive and well.

The water was only luke warm, though apparently it can sometimes be HOT.​

This colorful American Avocet was in breeding plumage!​

Besides being only luke warm - perhaps 100°F or so - the Trego springs didn't smell good, and there was plenty of growth in the pools. Even @mrs.turbodb - who is much more likely to want to take a dip than I am - didn't seem real interested this time. So after looking around for a warmer candidate and not finding one, it was back into the Tacoma for the last time - finally making our way out onto the Black Rock Playa - to find camp!

200 square miles of flat.​

Unable to resist, we drove around a bit before fining a place "in the middle" to camp. Our first stop should be obvious - the exact spot that is Center Camp for Burning Man. I'm happy to say we found nothing there - not a shred of evidence that each year an entire city sprouts up around this spot - which was great, and a testament to the work that the organizers do to clean up.

This is the spot is where Burning Man happens. I'm happy to report that it looks like every other spot on the playa.​

We almost decided to camp at Center Camp, or at the location of the bonfire - both places I'd marked on my GPS - but ultimately decided that somewhere a little more off the beaten path would be preferable. We hadn't seen anyone else around, but figure that if others showed up, they might - as we did - head to this spot, just to check it out.

So, we pointed the truck north and drove at highway speeds for five minutes, to a spot that looked identical to the one we'd left. It was perfect. It was home. I setup the tent.

It was windy on the playa - sustained 10-15mph, with gusts to 25mph.​

I setup the truck so that it was facing directly into wind, allowing us to make - and eat - dinner on the tailgate with reasonably little concern that things would blow away, or that the stove wouldn't heat things well. Dinner was tacorritos and guacamole - a fan favorite!

As we started kitchen setup, the sun bathed the truck in a sea of orange halo.​

A few minutes later, the sun was behind the mountains to the west, layers of land playing across the playa.​

Dinner taken care of and everything put away, I think we were both hoping that the wind would die down a bit before we headed to bed. I poked around for a while outside as the light turned from orange to pink and purple, and @mrs.turbodb read her Kindle Paperwhite in the safety of the cab.

Except for the wind, we really couldn't have asked for a better first night experience on the Black Rock Playa.​

Last light.​

The wind - of course - wasn't going to let up.

Now, I've learned over the years that orientation of the tent makes a big difference as to a reasonable night sleep on a windy night. The worst way to orient is to have the fold-out side of the tent facing into the wind. In this configuration, gusts over about 10mph risk folding the tent up on its occupants.

For a long time, I oriented the tent so the fixed side was facing the wind - presenting the least surface area toward the onslaught, and allowing the wind to blow both over and under the rain fly, with as little resistance as possible. This works - and it's still calm inside with the doors closed - but I've found that gusty conditions seem to "catch" the rain fly, jerking the tent irregularly, making it hard to sleep through the night.

Recently, I've found that orienting the tent so that it is side-on to the wind - with the front of the truck facing into the wind - is even better. This may not seem intuitive as it presents a larger surface area toward the wind, but by doing so, it eliminates the inconsistency of airflow that can catch the rain fly and jerk the tent around. Instead, the pressure is more consistent on one side of the tent, and that consistency goes a long way toward allowing the body to ignore it. At the same time, this method maintains the advantage of not folding the tent up on the occupants, though I still secure the ladder for extra insurance.

Of course, the best solution would be a GFC. Anyone want to start a gofundme?

Anyway, it was 9:00pm or so when we climbed into bed, earplugs blocking out much of the noise. Reading less than a single chapter on my Kindle, I was asleep within minutes - completely unaware that @mrs.turbodb had once again set her alarm for 4:00am.

But unlike the previous night, a shadow wouldn't keep us in bed this time...

 

Great shots as always, love the colors down there.

 

I'm just over 181K now, and it feels like I'm packing them on faster and faster. Going to have to change the timing belt again soon, and it feels like yesterday that Mike @Digiratus helped Dan @drr and me do it the first time!

Thanks man, glad you're enjoying!

Deserts are always a special place for colors, I feel. On the one hand, they can be monotonous, but then you always come to vistas that are spectacular, and the monochromatic landscape adds a drama all its own!

 

Milky Way, Murder, and High Rock Canyon - Black Rock Desert #3
Part of the Scouting Black Rock Desert (Apr 2021) trip.

I can't say I was overjoyed when I heard @mrs.turbodb's alarm blaring away as she tried to find her phone in the mess of sheets to turn it off. It was 4:00am again, and just like the night before - a surprise, I know - the moon was still up. The winds had stopped only about 15 minutes before her alarm, and I think we were both in the middle of the best sleep we'd gotten all night.

Except that now we were awake, and decided we might as well get out of the tent to take a look around.

Can you believe that's the moon over there, not the sun!​

You see, apparently there was a meteor shower while we were on this trip, and with it being a relatively dark area of the sky - when there is no moon - @mrs.turbodb wanted to see what she could see. I, on the other hand was more interested in figuring out whether I could photograph the Milky Way, since that's something I've never done before.

A bit of playing with settings on the camera, and eventually I had - at least on the small camera LCD - something that looked like it might be workable. I must say, for a first time trying - and though there's clearly room to improve - I'm really quite pleased.

Our galaxy, stretched out above Black Rock Desert.​

Well, we ended up hanging around in the calm night air for thirty minutes or so until the moon finally did set, and boy, it sure got a lot darker. Unfortunately, we didn't catch any meteors, so we climbed back into the tent for our last couple hours of sleep. Or really, laying there, since I don't think either of us actually fell back asleep before sunrise at 6:30am.

I always love a desert sunrise, even if there aren't any clouds to pick up the color.​

With another full day ahead of us, we were up and about relatively quickly, and just before breakfast and camp break-down, the sun spilled across the playa.

I got a nice - accidental - highlight effect by parking on a lighter area of the playa. Oh, and where were those clouds a few minutes earlier!?​

I think we finished the remainder of the strawberries with our cereal this morning, as we alternated between spoonful's of Cheerios and glassing the perimeter of the playa with binoculars. We were - it seems - the only ones brave (or dumb) enough to weather the previous night's wind, no other vehicles visible from our location in the dead center of the lakebed.

Camp teardown quickly followed, and soon we were headed north.

Black Rock Mountains, mere ghosts in the distance.​

For anyone unfamiliar, the Black Rock Playa is sort of "Y"-shaped, and we'd camped about a third of the way up the center trunk. Our first destination - Black Rock Hot Springs - was at the intersection of the trunk with the two branches; at the base of the Black Rock Mountains. To my surprise, this wasn't just a couple minutes away at 50mph - rather, it took us nearly 15 minutes of highway speeds to reach the small dunes at the edge of the playa! Dang, this place is gloriously enormous. I can't wait to come back and spend an entire day driving around the entire surface, looking for interesting things along the edge and through the middle!

These might be more "salt dunes" than "sand."​

Just off the playa in a sea of sand, salt, and tall grass, we came on the hot springs. As always seems to be the case, there was an single old dude floating around in the water, enjoying himself way too much. Keen to give him a bit of privacy, we passed on jumping in ourselves.

Visitor log or desert mailbox? The BLM and visitors apparently have different opinions.​

I've edited out the old dude. You're welcome.​

The water temps here were perfect, and the bottom looked nice and sandy.​

Having passed up on a soak, we poked around the area a bit, and at some point I realized that what I initially took to be a pile of old wood was actually the remains of an historic wagon! We were, after all, on the Applegate Trail.

If you're going to break down, I guess this is a reasonable place to do it.​

@mrs.turbodb kindly held down the fiberglass BLM marker - the one asking visitors to preserve our cultural heritage - as I took a photo. Unbeknownst to us, that was a terrible idea, as she was digging dozens of little glass shards out of her fingers for the rest of the day! But for now, we were back on the trail, working our way due north towards our second hot spring of the morning - Double Hot Springs.

A sandy road is a dandy road, I say; the sand makes it soft and pillowy!​

Buddha Barbie?​

Probably not.​

We didn't wonder long about the Barbie post, I just suggested to @mrs.turbodb that it was probably a Barbie Loop road marker in a place like this and shortly we arrived at the hot springs.

Hot springs - in the Black Rock Desert - are apparently like the story of Goldilocks. Trego Hot Springs had been too cold, Black Rock was just right, and Double Hot Springs was quite clearly warmer than we wanted to even test with our fingers.

No single old men in this spring, we had it all to ourselves.​

For obvious reasons.​

More than one person - and several pets - have died in this spring, a fact that I was reminded of as I hopped around the edges trying to get a shot. Not to worry, I wasn't going to let my new camera get wet so soon after acquiring it.

One of the two sources. Both were deep and would have been fantastic to bathe in...if they were only 70°F cooler.​

Don't bust the (salty) desert crust.​

Continuing on the Applegate Trail, the mountains to our north were suddenly bright with color. There, under layers of sage, were brilliant stripes of white and orange as we turned off the main route for our next short detour: the old remains of Hardin City.

Splashes of orange.​

It's hard to believe, but Hardin City was a mining camp established in 1866 when prospectors thought they had found the site of James Hardin’s lost deposit of silver (1849). As usual, the lure of shiny metal made excitement run high, and investors, prospectors, and others swarmed to the area and erected two stamp mills. Predictably - given that the site is built on the silt of the playa - no silver materialized, and the town disappeared less than six months after it was established.

All that remains of a stamp mill, returning to the dust from which it was built.​

There must be more here?!?​

More interesting than Hardin City - for me at least - was a nearby site known as Clapper Creek. It was here that Peter Lassen - for which so much in California is named - and his prospecting friend Edward Clapper were killed on April 26, 1860 as they too searched for Hardin's lost silver. A plaque now stands alone in the spot, the murderer never caught.

So green on our way to Clapper Creek.​

Though he didn't find the silver before being killed, I'd say Lassen was more "on track" in this landscape than the fools digging in the dusty playa.​

I really enjoyed these clouds as we looked back over the Black Rock Desert.​

Our jaunt over to the Lassen murder site was the last stop before we reached the end of the playa - which, really, was already covered in sagebrush at this point anyway - finding ourselves looping through Soldier Meadows on the way to what I hoped would be the highlight of our trip. It was - at the very least - what I'd planned the trip around: experiencing the narrowness of High Rock Canyon.

Before we could do that, we still had a few miles to go - winding our past Soldier Meadows Hot Springs (which we'd later visit), and through Fly Canyon.

Lest we forget we were in the high desert, the high desert landscape reminded us where we were.​

APPLEGATE TRAIL - FLY CANYON

"We had some very stony rodes. One hill we locked both wheels & put on ropes to let our wagons down. All got down safe. Saw some hansum sights along the rocks holes maid by the wind." -Abram Minges, 1849​

We got to drive through Fly Canyon, a treat since I thought we were going to have to hike it!​

As we drove through the canyon - never quite at the bottom, but along the side of the wash - it was both fun and terrifying to think what it would have been like to come this way as a settler. The bottom of the wash - where they most likely travelled - was not conducive to anything but rock hopping, and portions of the canyon were so narrow as to nearly be considered a slot. Our speed slow, it was with a keen eye that we spotted a marking on the far wall - the name of a weary traveler, painted on using axle grease.

S p _ _ _ _ _​

We spent a few minutes trying to figure it out - to no avail - before being distracted by some nearby bird nests made of mud. It wouldn't be the last time we had trouble reading nearly 200 year old axle grease.

You gotta eat a lot of mud to spit up an entire nest onto a rock wall. Just sayin.​

From Fly Canyon, it wasn't far to High Rock Canyon. We were now a mere 15 miles from where we'd started our loop just 36 hours or so before - and once again, there was a locked gate across our path. It was expected of course, and the plan from here was to hike four miles up the canyon - along the road - to see the narrows. But first, lunch.

South end of High Rock Canyon. I have to say, the geology was mesmerizing even before we began our trek.​

Ready for an 8-mile hike.​

And we're off!​

The road through Black Rock Canyon is reasonably flat. However, being travelled primarily by cattle while the road is closed to vehicles, two things became immediately apparent: first, there was a lot of crap on the road; second, the road surface was soft and dusty - a little bit like walking in sand. We did our best to stay on the firmer areas in order to keep up our pace.

The first mile or so of the hike was through a broad valley - the canyon walls climbing gracefully along the edge. We could see where the modern day road and the historical wagon track merged and split several times, BLM likely doing their best to preserve the old route. And then, eventually, the canyon started to narrow.

Three pillars standing guard; marking the beginnings of the narrows.​

Winding our way through the narrower section, our heads were on swivels. It wasn't narrow like a slot canyon, but the walls climbed high quickly and the orange rock was as striking as ever. Two-and-a-half miles in, we came to a cave - only a small opening presented to the outside world. The inside was a different story - not comfortable, there were rocks all over the floor - but spacious. Black soot on the ceiling indicative of those who came before us - perhaps during the winter - who were likely elated to find such lavish shelter.

A search for petroglyphs and other rock art was fruitless.​

A bit further up the canyon - less than a quarter mile away - we found what we'd expected to see at the cave: evidence of those who'd come before us. Those who hadn't arrived via Tacoma, but who'd travelled on foot from many hundreds of miles away.

Towering walls of stone.​

George from Wisconsin, in 1852.​

And of course, we couldn't help but stir up the current residents - this little guy, even larger than the one I'd seen in Tunnel Camp, and running around like he owned the place.

This is my rock, and don't you forget it.​

Our eyes now on the lookout for more names chiseled into the wall, it as a combination of my and @mrs.turbodb's near-blindness that spotted the next batch. Actually, I was admiring a huge slab of stone along the side of the canyon, and how it seemed to be made of gently curving layers, when @mrs.turbodb pointed out that there were more names! This time - as they'd been in Fly Canyon - they were painted on the wall with axle grease, the pigment of the white man.

The rock wall I was admiring. I admire strange things.​

C. WHITE, AUG 18, 18__, IOWA​

ABR____ (illegible)​

With clear evidence "modern technology" isn't always better than just chipping away a bit of rock to leave your message about bighorn sheep, we continued on - now not very far from our turnaround point for the hike. You see, the plan from the get-go had been to hike four of the fifteen miles, to reach an even narrower section of the canyon that I'd marked as "fabulous narrow gorge," when I'd seen a photo of it in a trip report on advrider.com.

That had been nearly a year earlier, and I hoped that it lived up to my label - otherwise, I was likely to get it from my hiking partner.

That is quite fabulous, I think.​

It'd taken us a little over an hour and a half to make it the 4.2 miles to this spot, so without too much lazing around, we started back the way we'd come. We figured it'd be just a little over an hour for the return trip, since there'd be fewer photos along the way. Theoretically.

Spring is coming.​

Of course, fewer isn't none, so we did stop a few times when the sun illuminated the rock walls in front of us, the oranges and reds contrasting nicely with the sage, blues, and clouds.

Re-entering the narrows.​

Emerging from the narrows, pillars of rock still guarding the entrance.​

With that, we'd completed our loop, and we'd done it nearly a day ahead of schedule. We had a few more stops that we wanted to make as we retraced our steps out through Fly Canyon to Soldier Meadows, but it was time to start figuring out what we were going to do once that was done - because we couldn't just park and be done. Or could we?

I don't know the answer to that, but we postponed the decision for the time being, because at the mouth of High Rock Canyon, on the edge of what used to be High Rock Lake, a few dilapidated cabins sat in a field of tall grass and sage. Obviously an old ranch, headed over to take a look.

Looked better from a distance.​

The cabins were in rough shape - nothing really noteworthy inside or out - and I think I was the only one who even got out to look around. I guess there was one noteworthy item - one of the cabins had a cellar dug under half of it, and was starting to crumble into said cellar.

And so, without further ado, we headed out to Soldier Meadows - a vast wonderland of nothingness - at the head of the Black Rock Desert.

Travelled by many, and yet so desolate today.​

As you may recall, as we made our way through Soldier Meadows a few hours earlier, we'd passed the Soldier Meadows Hot Springs, and now was the perfect time to take a peak at them. I'd considered spending the night at a few designated camp sites nearby, but it was a Friday afternoon and there were already a few vehicles parked at some of the sites. A reminder that even in the middle of nowhere, people find a way to haul in a fifth wheel.

There were 5 pools, none of them very warm. @mrs.turbodb *almost* went in.​

A nice camp spot, from this angle. Taken the other direction ... well, the background would have been trailers and UTVs. ​

From Soldier Meadows, I'd planned to take one of three routes north to pavement at NV-140. This would take us through the mountains - past Summit Lake on a road bearing the same name - and then either fork left, into the Virgin Valley, or right, up through the Sheldon National Wildlife Refuge.

Summit Lake, home to its very own species of trout, found nowhere else in the world. No fishing though, this is tribal land.​

And it was at this point that we had to make our decision. On any normal trip, we'd have chosen the route to the left. The road through the Virgin Valley seemed intriguing - several interesting stops along the way. However, the forecast was for rain, and after the muddy mess I'd encountered just a few weeks earlier in the Owyhee Outback, I figured that getting into mud on the first day of a trip was one thing... but that it was something else entirely on the last day of a trip, with commitments awaiting us at home.

And so, we left ourselves a little bit to explore in the future, and turned to the right - on a nicely graded road through the Sheldon National Wildlife Refuge.

Not named after the character on TV.​

Our final descent into civilization.​

It was easy, pretty, and got us where we needed to go - but I think both of us wished we'd chosen the other route, even if just a little. Which is fine - I reminded myself - because the whole point of this trip was to scout out the area. To figure out what looked like it was worth coming back to explore in more detail.

The answer - as often seems to be the case - was obvious: all of it!