AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

I spent some time after your post searching for the area with the trailer. I found one but it isn't the same and looks to be in an area that may be a private holding. So much to explore. That trestle and associated structures are pretty neat.

 

I stopped in Trona on Sunday on my way home.
It is awful. I can't believe anyone would live there.
I don't think Manly and Rogers would approve.

 

When I was in Saline Valley on a weekend in early December, we met a couple of “volunteer scientists” whose day jobs are with the LA DWP. They were there counting monarch butterflies in some of the side canyons to the west of Saline … and soaking in the tubs when not counting. They said this year’s count was the highest since the eighties.

 

There've been a few reports of the monarch's numbers increasing as well. But not to the "normal" levels.
I don't know what that means to be honest. Not much of a butterfly person but it sounds pretty positive.

 

Maybe I'm alone here, but I find Trona delightful. I mean it's a desolate shithole for sure, but there are plenty of folks that would use that term for the less industrialized valleys we cherish nearby as well. I love the fact that it's a functional mining community in the 21st century. The little restaurant is worth a stop too. Plus there's an airport and a golf course, all right by a lake. That's practically a resort in my book!

Last time I stopped by, I was trying to air up at night after my air compressor setup had rattled itself apart on the trail. I started by somewhat needlessly topping off the tank so that I could demand free use of the air compressor, but as I pulled over to unreel its hose and uncap the tires, a truckload of sketchy-looking people rolled up like usual, with maybe 6 adults piling out of a beat-up single-cab pickup truck and its bed. Most of them headed in, while a few lingered by their truck watching me. Whelp, I figured, it was no longer worth the trouble to march into a now-crowded convenience store to stand in line just to save $1.00 on an air compressor cycle (and I'm honestly still on edge about the whole Covid thing too). I had a handful of quarters in my pocket anyway, so I just started feeding them into the machine. As the first one clinked through the mechanism and plopped to the coin box, I looked up to see a somewhat intimidating character headed my way swiftly and with purpose. I'm going to be honest, this was not a comforting sight, although that might have been due to hanging out on TW and hearing things like this:

I took a few steps back so I wasn't straddling the air hose as this guy closed the gap. He was wearing a tattered hoodie and loose-fitting backpack, but don't think it was filled with textbooks or a graphing calculator. Perhaps I offered a greeting, my mind racing, as he reached down to effortlessly unlatch the compressor housing and hit the manual cycle start button for me.

Silence.

"Thing's still broken, sorry man."

I guess it had been broken for a while! It was pretty nice of him to run over and save me the disappointment of wasting three more quarters to find out. Or heaven forbid, venturing into the shop to ask.

Anyway... a delightful town!


Edit: And did I mention.... AFFORDABLE?



Better start saving those quarters!

 

I grew up in a Russian-speaking family; “Tron” means “throne” in Russian, and was what we called the toilet in our family. So yeah, I can’t see the name without thinking that it’s is literally a shithole. But I agree, it has charm, and in the last few decades it has become a more reliable place to find and open gas station or convenience store than when I passed through in the 80’s and 90’s. There’s even a bike path through town, though it’s condition is probably best suited to a full-suspension fat bike. This is a fun site https://www.trona-ca.com/
Especially this https://www.trona-ca.com/a-shrinking-team-but-a-home-field-advantage/

 

I'm sure there is more to it, and I'd love to talk to folks who know the history and the "why," but my first impressions were not great (probably partially due to my incorrect assumptions on what I'd see there).

I love the fact that you guys know this. And, it's great to hear that numbers are looking better, I suppose (unless it's bad in some other way). I'd love to see more in the valley - and man, I'd love to see them some year when there's a super bloom (which I've never seen).

Every time I read one of your quick-witted stories, I find myself wishing that I could just send you my photos and have you write my trip reports. So much more entertaining than my dreary blather. Even better, I could just have you tag along on all my trips and take the photos too.

As I think about it, that's two problems solved. For me. I suppose it introduces a couple for you, perhaps resulting in a net gain of zero. I'm sure you can find a witty way to work those problems into the stories though, and they wouldn't be my problems, regardless.

OK, I thought that first link was *just* obituaries and was laughing. But there's actually some cool info on that site and I've now spent 30+ minutes reading a bunch of entries and searching for more info on some of the places/attractions. At least if/when I go back, I'll have a better idea of what to expect, and some ideas of what to go look at.

 

TW needs a heart button. This is gold.

 

Story goes that Trona used to be fairly prosperous, even had a hospital. Then things migrated out and into Ridgecrest, and Trona dilapidated into what we see today. I’ll try to find an article online.

Edit: http://mojavedesert.net/johnsearles/

 

You guys have kind hearts. I love your open-mindedness and positivity. "Always look on the bright side of life".
Alas, another mining town bust...

 

If you're okay with posting maybe 5% of your trips, after 1-2 year delay, while also constantly being hours if not days late to hit the road, and then forgetting either your maps or your cookware literally every time... well then, my approach to adventuring and trip reporting is right for you! But I think there's a reason the conversation is happening over here on the AdventureTaco thread. And heck, I don't think I'm alone here, but sometimes your trip reports are just... delightful!

Awww, thanks!

@dman100 posted a pretty great site above... been reading it intermittently all evening. (Instead of fixing my stupid air compressor!) There's a ton of content hiding in there, and a few good outside links too, although many have become 404s over the years.

I particularly have enjoyed reading entire issues of Desert Magazine that are embedded there, such as this one from '73. It's quite interesting reading about exploring the decaying ruins of the area's mining history in 4x4 trucks, in articles that were actually published closer to the latter boom years than the present day! Oh, to be exploring these places back then...

Plus you gotta love the 50-year-old ads for jeeps and camper vans and the desert lifestyle in general. Apparently, people have been enjoying this shit for years! The only thing they got wrong is they forgot to call it #overlanding and do hashtags and tick tocks or whatever.

Always eager to read more if you find other articles!



Okay, too may words, not enough pictures. Here's a random one:

Cruising the DVRR grade

 

No kidding. I did the same except I was wondering “why link to the obits? Is there something I should know?”. So,, I read a bunch.

Then I wandered around looking at the photos and what not. It was a pretty interesting site.

 

Solution. And it's not on this thread.

 

Pure gold.

 

More gold than hiding up in the Inyos! Just... fantastic.

Dan, I'd write a witty reply to you over there, but I don't want to clear out the half-written "Part 2" post I've got going on that tab. Thank you for enlightening us all.

 

That is a pretty picture, truck looks really good man.

 

Two Dunes Down - Lipstick #3
Part of the Lipstick on the Pig (Jan 2022) trip.

It was another pleasant night at the southern end of Death Valley National Park. We slept soundly, a light breeze wafting through the tent as the moon passed by overhead. Clouds built slowly and morning brought the brightest sunrise of the trip - an opportunity I took full advantage of with the Ibex Dunes rising in the distance.

As I climbed down the ladder, I was a little excited to see the color starting in the sky. There was potential here, for sure!​

A few minutes later, and boom, color everywhere! Below, the dunes reflected the warm orange glow in their own special way.​

To the north, the aptly named Black Mountains picked up some of the purple hue.​

After soaking in the colorful glow, I climbed back into bed for another hour or so of warmth - we had a full day planned, but with significantly less driving than the previous two, so I hoped that getting a bit later start wouldn't pose a problem. Not that I would have changed anything if it had...

It was a little before 8:00am when we climbed out of the tent to greet the morning sun. Clouds had continued to build - we'd end up with a mostly cloudy day - but there were still moments of sun streaming through and illuminating the landscape around.

To our south, the Avawatz Mountains were looking fine.​

At one point I was wandering around as @mrs.turbodb prepped food, and completely by accident I stumbled on a set of petroglyphs etched into the faces of several well-patinaed rocks on the hillside. Excited by the find, I started hopping around looking for - and discovering - more! For all the planning I do for these trips, I must say that some of the most joyous moments come from the unexpected events that get sprinkled into any trip - nature's way of keeping us on our toes!

Climbing amongst the rocks, I was looking for a good place to take a photo of the Tacoma when I happened to stumble on a rock art site!​

​

I'm not sure the actual origin, but the geometric shapes reminded us of the Basketweaver style of Cedar Mesa.​

Most of the figures had begun to patina again, understandable in such a harsh environment.​

After a quick breakfast and liberal application of sunscreen, we headed east towards our second sand dunes in as many days. Like the Panamint Dunes, the Ibex are (relatively) rarely visited, but unlike our excursion the previous day, we had a much shorter trek - just under two miles - to reach this set of sandy hills.

Ibex Dunes nicely framed by the Saddle Peak Hills.​

The old road - now closed to all but foot and horse traffic - is slowly being swallowed by the sand.​

I'd expected our hike into the Ibex Dunes to play second fiddle to the Panamint, but I was surprised to find that they significantly exceeded my expectations. Not only did the hike itself seem more interesting - which I'll get to in a moment - but for some reason the shape of the dunes was more pleasing to me as well. Strange how reality can exceed expectations sometimes!

A graceful curve of sand contrasted fantastically with the Black Mountains to the north.​

On the east side of the dunes, the struggle between desert and sand was strong.​

For much of our hike, we'd noticed strange white "boxes" dotting the landscape, a few hundred feet from the trail. All of them seemed just a little too far away for us to want to investigate - perhaps that was the intent (!) - until we noticed #8, just a hundred feet or so away. Curious, we went over to check it out.

What are you, you strange PVC contraption?​

A real-life science project!​

Not far away, we found this sediment trap structure that had previously been attached via zip-ties to a nearby dowel-and-ball-bearing anchor that allowed it to change direction in the wind. The bearing was rusty and the dowel had broken, rendering it... slightly less useful.​

For more information about the science project we stumbled upon, check out UCLA's Project Ibex Wind Study. Note: I emailed them to update them on what we found... and never heard back.
​

Besides summitting the dunes - which we'll get to in a moment - another reason for the trek across the sand blown landscape was to check out the remains of a mine that I'd spotted during my research. Hidden behind the dunes at the base of the Saddle Peak Hills, the Rainbow Talc Mine has an interesting history (Dust Up Over Talc) - one of the most recent battles between protection of the National Park lands, and the mineral rights of landowners.

Selfishly, I'm glad for the current outcome - one that allows me to view the striking headframe of the Rainbow Talc Mine in this otherwise pristine setting - though I'm not sure I'd say the same if it were my own land that was protected by a park.​

Into the sky.​

A bit of old rail from the incline shaft still clings to the top of the ramp, where talc was dropped from carts into the ore chute.​

From every angle, this was a photogenic structure!​

The mine extends for nearly a mile along the base of the Saddle Peak Hills, and following in the footsteps of those before us, we set off to explore.

I was going to try to pass these off as @mk5's prints - as he'd visited a few weeks earlier - but we all know that prints last about 17 minutes in the windy conditions down here.​

Tracing the base of the hills, it was fascinating to see the bits and pieces of history that were out here. A plethora of tires in various states of disrepair, more than a dozen mine/claim markers, and an interesting mix of sand and rock, the dunes slowly encroaching onto the fanglomerate on which I can only assume the original road was constructed. And along the way, mining artifacts - inclined shafts, ore chutes, and adits dotted the hillside. Naturally, we stopped to investigate them all.

A bit of tire separation here; probably made for a loud ride. Hope they got the certificate.​

Weathered markers with aluminum nameplates marked more than a dozen sites in the area - some with obvious remnants of a mine; others seemingly undeveloped.​

An entrance, buried.​

This rocky mosaic of fanglomerate was exposed in a road cut through the alluvial fan of the Saddle Peak Hills. I liked how cascading water had eroded small channels in the mud cementing the rocks together.​

An old ore chute near one of the larger shafts, with a substantial substructure.​

Working a mine would be hot, windy, hard work. But it'd be hard to complain about the views!​

A mountain of talc, literally. Estimates put the remaining payload at over 1 million tons.​

After exploring the mines, it was time for us to make a decision - would we be happy with having circumnavigated the dunes, or did we feel it necessary to climb to the top? For each of us, it turns out, the answer was different - and so, after setting up the tripod and camera for @mrs.turbodb, I set off for the summit, being as careful as I could to make it seem that - rather than walking - I'd been dropped there from a helicopter.

Headed into the sea of virgin sand, no prints - yet - for miles!​

It probably only took me about 15 minutes to get from the vantage point we'd chosen to just below the summit of the tallest dune, circling around the back side and staying just below the ridgeline so as to maintain the pristine look of the dune in any photos.

As I neared the summit, I glanced down to see my photographer making her way to a secluded spot a couple hundred feet away from the camera. Certain that it was a bathroom break, I wondered why she didn't just take care of business out in the open - at more than a half mile away, I could only just make her out and - I thought at the time - was the closest around.

Figuring I had a minute, I turned around to soak in the views - the colorful Ibex Hills providing a fabulous backdrop to the west.

With a view like this to distract me, I didn't mind waiting a few minutes.​

I don't know how long I'd been turned around, but it couldn't have been more than two or three minutes, when I decided it'd probably been long enough. Peering down again, I was surprised to see three hikers - the frontmost of which had just passed the camera setup and was headed towards the bluff behind which @mrs.turbodb was wrapping up her business! She emerged just as he rounded the bend, and - I could tell - was a little flustered, sprinting away from the hiker and back to the waiting camera! Understandable, I think, given the remoteness of this region.

I'd later find out that the interaction had been friendly, with the hikers asking her if she shot here often and what here Instagram was. LOL.

Made it.​

Two dunes down!​

View from the top of the world.​

With the Ibex Dunes in the bag, that means I've now tackled most of the dune fields in Death Valley, having previously hiked the Eureka Dunes, Hidden Dunes, Mesquite Dunes, and Panamint Dunes. I don't have many - or really any - bucket lists in my exploration, but I do find the dune fields of this place intriguing!

A smile on my face, I headed straight down the 45° face of the dune, sliding into the sand as I cascaded along.

After getting the @mrs.turbodb's firsthand account of the bathroom tale, I snapped a quick shot of our fellow hikers making their way up the dunes.​

And with that, we retraced our steps - my camera battery dying along the way - to the Tacoma, where we emptied out our shoes and enjoyed another great lunch in the desert!

Looking back now, the Rainbow Mine of the Ibex Dunes was the absolute perfect transition - from sand dunes to talc mines - for this trip. In fact, the entire rest of our adventure would be spent exploring the plethora of talc mines in the region, with the first being just a few miles away and accessed from the parking area at Saratoga Spring.

Looks like someone is napping on the five-minute drive between parking areas. ​

Perfectly unpopulated.​

Some of the rocks next to the parking area were so colorful, I couldn't help but point the camera at the ground and click away.​

We didn't linger all that long - both of us looking forward to reaching camp before dark for the first time this trip - before setting out on our last hike of the day. After our usual sunscreen and hike-prep routine, we headed north - along what used to be an old mining road but is now just a hiking trail - toward the three groupings of the Saratoga Talc Mine. First though, we'd experience the wide-open views of the spring, the sound of birds and frogs, alien elsewhere in the desert.

A desert oasis.​

Streaks of white in the distance - the mines we would explore.​

The area around the spring has been used by various mining endeavors since the 1880s, and was surely used much earlier than that by indigenous people. Today, the ruins of two stone structures are all that remain adjacent to the spring. Originally built in the twenty-mule team days (late 1800s) to serve as a saloon and a store, one was revamped in 1909 and used as a blacksmith shop by the Pacific Nitrate Syndicate.

An apparently happy blacksmith. Cleaner than I'd have expected.​

The Saratoga has three groups of mines that work the talc veins of the Ibex Hills. The first mine - about a mile north from the spring, and the only one we'd hiked to on our first visit to this area a few years ago - is the southern group. Opened in 1949, it produced very little product. Its ore chute and small tin shack - visible up the canyon wall, 300 yards east of the trail - are worth the climb, and if you poke around just a bit, you may also discover the old blasting shack carved into the hillside.

From a distance, the wooden ore chute glows in the afternoon sun.​

The shack behind the chute - which functioned as a workshop when the mine was active - isn't long for this world.​

I originally shot this photo for the chute, but at looking at it more, the white, saltiness of the valley floor is what catches my attention.​

Plenty of ventilation in the workshop these days.​

The small blasting shack, where explosives were kept under lock and key for safety.​

Developed in three stages, the northern and middle group of mines are located directly across a wash from each other, though only the northern group is initially visible from the trail. Originally worked in 1944, it was reactivated by the Southern California Minerals Company in 1949 and - like the southern group - produced only small amounts of ore before being abandoned in 1954. It does, however, have a large open cut of talc with several tunnels above a two-chute ore bin, surrounded by a jumble of metal ducts that were used to transport material from the cut. Both the ore bin and talc cut are worth checking out.

The trail to the middle and northern groups of mines is faint, but there's no question about where to go.​

Entering the side canyon, only the ore bin and open cut of the northern group are visible.​

It's hard to imagine that material was moved through these thin-walled galvanized pipes without quickly destroying them. Perhaps a sign of the (low) volume of material that was actually extracted.​

Still in reasonable shape after more than 75 years, though time has begun to back a few of the nails out of their holes.​

An inherently soft material, the shallow tunnels on the cut above the bin were supported by large timbers.​

A view of the headframe at the middle group of mines was visible from the north.​

Compared to the other two groups, the middle group of mines fared somewhat better - yielding a few thousand tons between 1955 and the mid-1960s - but, by the late 1960s, these mines failed like many others in this harsh environment and all mining had stopped. Today, all the Saratoga holdings are now idle, and are in the possession of Pfizer, Inc.

This middle group has - what we thought were - the most interesting structures to admire. A tall wooden headframe stands above an inclined shaft, with a concrete pad high on the hillside where the winch that pulled the carts up the rail was anchored. Ore would have been emptied into the small ore bin beneath the hoist, where a rail-based ore car would transport it to a large ore bin at the tip of the tailings pile. Unlike any other ore bin I've seen in the park, this one - with its X-shaped braces - allowed trucks to drive under, rather than beside it, in order to pick up their loads.

The headframe and large ore bin, both with diagonal X-bracing for strength.​

Unlike other ore bins - for both talc and gold - this one unloaded from the bottom, rather than the side.​

Survey markers are a little like geocaches for me - always fun to find!​

The old, narrow-gauge rail still leads from the headframe to the ore bin.​

After years of baking in the sun, the yellow paint on the pulley is still doing just fine. My guess is that it still spins quite nicely as well.​

One of the ore carts hauled up by the headframe and dumped into the small ore bin.​

A silent giant overlooking the valley.​

It was a little after 4:00pm as we wrapped the the exploration of the Saratoga Mines. With an hour before sunset we made our way back to the trailhead, having added another 5 miles of enjoyable desert hiking to our day. From there, it was only a short drive - back from whence we'd come, between the Ibex Hill and Ibex Dunes - to find camp and make dinner before the last of the light left the evening sky.

Having explored the mines in the area, I'm not sure when we'll be back to Saratoga Spring.​

Perched a bit higher in the valley and a little further up the alluvial fan, we had a familiar view across the Ibex Dunes as evening spread across the land.​

Not a bad place to eat dinner.​

Finally, we'd done it: we'd reached camp before dark! That's not to say that a headlamp wasn't utilized here and there in the cleanup after dinner, or that we lazied around for hours in camp before hitting the sack after a long day of hiking, but it was a nice feeling to enjoy the purply glow from our camp chairs rather than at freeway speeds in the cab of the Tacoma.

We'd hit the sack early - as seems to be our habit during the winter months - with a plan of visiting several more white powder mines the following day. We had no idea at the time, but we'd saved the most exciting treasure hunt - and discovery - until the very end!

 

This is beautiful!

Not sure what I clicked to get to this thread as I was closing extra TW tabs...

Thank you and following now!

Ed

****

 

As always a great batch of trip reports, another reminder of some areas I always wanted to check out, and now know that they will be on the list.

Glad the replacement T- case has held up well and hopefully with be good for another 100k!

 

It's Mine, Mine, Mine - All Mines! - Lipstick #4
Part of the Lipstick on the Pig (Jan 2022) trip.

Hoping for a repeat of the previous morning, I was up early to capture a sunrise that never materialized. With few clouds in the sky - especially above the eastern horizon - there was nothing for the sun to highlight as it made its daily appearance just before 7:00am.

Even without a fiery sky, the Ibex Hills gave our camp site a lot of color.​

What did you contain, rusty can?​

Having gotten a taste of some really nice talc mines the previous day, our final day in the park was going to be a whirlwind of the same. Before lunch, we'd visit two more - The Superior and Whitecap - a little further north in the Ibex Hills, and after lunch we'd head to the southern edge of the Black Mountains where the Pleasanton, Monarch, and Moorehouse mines all exploited the white powdery substance around the once-oasis, Ibex Spring.

It would be a day out of Veruca Salt's (who always wanted everything for herself) Willy Wonka. I could just hear her incessant voice screaming "mines, mines, mines - all mines!" So, without losing a beat, we set off toward the Superior, our anticipation for what we'd find, high.

I really love the way the the NPS closes roads in Death Valley National Park. Natural, and yet an obvious message to not drive here.​

The hike to the Superior Talc Mine was a little less than a mile up a sandy wash - easy peasy in comparison to earlier forays. Consisting of three claims, this mine was owned and operated by the Southern California Minerals Company from its inception in 1940 until recent years. Easily the most developed and productive talc mine in the southern Death Valley region, the Superior Mine produced 141,000 tons of ore between 1940 and 1959, its most active period.

Interestingly, in a 1981 Historic Resource Study, the NPS determined that the general state of the Superior Mine - which remained in intermittent operation through the early 1960s and is now owned by Pfizer, Inc. - was unworthy of any preservation efforts.

Since the resource study, the entire footprint of the Superior Mine has been cleaned up and graded. While no structures or adits remain, we still found the site fascinating - a huge white trench only hinting at the scale of this operation.

From below, there is little to betray the existence of the enormous mine that once occupied this space.​

Once we reached the main level - and all the way to several nearby summits - the grading done for reclamation was obvious.​

Gigantic. My hiking companion, but an ant in the upper right!​

Without any structures to explore, we set our sights on a treasure hunt of sorts. Our ever-present companion - Michel Digonnet's Hiking Death Valley - suggested that if we poked around enough, we might discover some rusty old carcasses of Southern California Minerals Company vehicles.

Challenge accepted.​

I wondered how the vehicle ownership was identified... until I stumbled on them myself, the question clearly answered.​

A little paint and a new headlight and she'll be good to go!​

I got a good chuckle out of this.​

Interior chrome still holding up nicely.​

Exterior chrome doing just fine as well.​

We found the perfect jump seat - or it would have been if there was a bit more upholstery on the springs - from which to soak in the views.​

Perhaps predictably, in the course of finding the forgotten carcasses, we discovered the real treasure this place has to offer: the views. Up here at the top of the Ibex Hills, it felt as though we were on top of the world.

In the distance to the northwest, Telescope Peak, even the sunny side covered in snow.​

Looking southwest, the Avawatz badlands extending towards the Owlshead Mountains.​

And to the east, the Ibex Dunes offered a familiar view and were looking sharp with their shadowy sides.​

From the summit above the Superior Mine, it was a bit more than a mile down the west side of the northern Ibex Hills - all along an old mining road that would have connected to the same road we'd hiked in the opposite direction the previous afternoon - towards the final talc mine of this cluster - the Whitecap.

As we meandered along mining roads long decommissioned, the views west into Death Valley continued to impress.​

As we continued to lose elevation - that we'd have to gain on the return trip - we started to question when we'd find what we were looking for - one of the best-preserved headframes in the area. It was only as I consulted the map that I'd saved to my phone that we realized that such a prize no longer sat at the end of this trail. Looking down over the obvious location of the mine, there was no structure to be seen!

Could the Whitecap have been restored similarly to the Superior? We doubted it, given my pre-trip research, but knew that anything was possible as we covered the final approach to the site.

@mrs.turbodb checking out one of three inclined shafts at the Whitecap Mine.​

A tunnel of talc.​

As we were checking out the adits, I looked down on the ground an immediately had a sinking sensation. In a pile of nails, I'd discovered the fate of the headframe.

A pile of nails, where a grand wooden structure once graced the land. Fire.​

After a bit more looking around, more evidence of the fire that claimed this headframe.​

The upper pulley, once perched atop the timbers, pulled loads of ore from below the surface.​

It was @mrs.turbodb who first spotted the tricycle. She mentioned it as I was taking a photo of the upper pully, and I thought she was making a joke about the large wheel surrounded by beams. Only as I poked around a bit more, looking for various bits of scorched wood that told the story, did I see the actual child-sized mode of transportation sitting a little way from the remains.

A band of mini miners, or bring your kid to work day?​

With what remained of the Whitecap explored, we retraced the two miles to the Tacoma, continuing to wonder aloud when the burn occurred.

Note: I emailed DEVA NPS upon our return and was told that the headframe burned more than a decade earlier. In fact, some photos from 2013 show that it'd burned prior to the 2016 publication of Hiking Death Valley, Second Edition. Strange that Digonnet didn't update the description!

The views heading back to the Tacoma were colorful - the blue sky contrasting nicely with the multi-colored hillsides.​

On the road again. Finally, after three days, leaving the Ibex Dunes behind us.​

Our new destination was easy to spot in the southern folds of the Black Mountains.​

Looks like an afternoon of adventure!​

After a short stint on Ibex Spring Road we pulled up to the Pleasanton Mine where our first order of business was to consume the last of our tuna, chips, and an unfortunately-soapy-tasting Honeycrisp apple while enjoying the extensive workings that rose up the hillside behind us.

A nice spot for our last lunch of the trip.​

As with the proliferation of mines that we'd explored over the previous 24 hours, a group of mines also sprinkled the hillsides here at the southern end of the Black Mountains. Many of the claims were located by John Moorehouse in the mid-1930s, though as is commonly the case with mining in Death Valley, the vast majority only produced small amounts of talc.

Eventually, Moorehouse leased his claims - as did other owners in the area - to the Sierra Talc Company. Between 1942 and 1945, his mine - along with the nearby Pleasanton and Monarch Mines - were extensively developed, and by 1959 more than 115,000 tons of ore had been extracted.

The Pleasanton ore cute - as at every talc mine - appeared to have been the recipient of a recent snow storm. But, that's not snow.​

Originally the railway extended to the end of the chute where material was loaded directly into waiting trucks, without the usual stockpiling in an ore bin.​

One of the things I always marvel at is the longevity of the structures that exist from the mining era. Practiced technique and strong joints are what made this possible, and those are usually hidden from sight.​

The never-ending battle between wood and metal.​

The Pleasanton Mine has at least three levels and after exploring the bottom-most, we headed to the upper pad.​

A nice overlook of the valley - and northern end of the Saddle Peak Hills - from up here.​

This middle level of the mine appeared to be where most of the activity took place - via several adits. Excited, I immediately started climbing up the hillside behind the headframe, while @mrs.turbodb followed a path around the hillside to a series of shafts. This turned out to be slightly inconvenient, since as soon as I got to the top, I realized that she was carrying the lens I wanted to use!

An old headframe, while not as intricate as others we'd seen, stood above a vertical shaft that'd once connected to the lower level. Behind it, a second shaft - now collapsed and fenced off - once extended into the hillside.​

At the entrance to every shaft was a penny. I'm not sure of their exact meaning, but I believe they are a later addition - this one is dated 1983D.​

I really liked the light in the talc tunnels. The white rock and the sunlight on the warm wood made for fantastic coloring.​

Life is like a box of chocolate - you never know what you're going to get. Super cool how an otherwise reddish mountain - when turned inside out - turns out to not be red at all!​

After checking out all the levels of the Pleasanton, it was time to move on to the Monarch mine just a bit further up the road. Accessing the same talc body as the Pleasanton - and after both mines were leased by the Sierra Talc Company - they were connected by a 950-foot tunnel that follows this ore body most of its length!

We admired the Monarch from across the wash, having just explored a very similar set of workings.​

An old window from a cabin across the wash from the Monarch where miner Tom Wilson lived. An employee of the Southern California Minerals Company, he built a homestead here to avoid paying rent at the company-owned Ibex Spring camp.​

Tom's gas-powered fridge. I'll give you one chance to guess which way the dial was turned.​

I'm always fascinated by blue glass, though I'm sure this isn't all that old.​

From the Monarch mine we had only one more mine to explore - that of Moorehouse who'd uncovered this talc-filled region in the 1930s. But first, a quick side trip was in order. Impossible to miss during the entirety of the drive to the Ibex Spring area were a cluster of palm trees rising up out of the desert. These - of course - were clustered around the once-prolific spring that supplied water not only to the miners who lived here, but also to the mines themselves. Today, easily accessible via vehicular traffic, the area around the spring is badly vandalized, and no surface water is present.

Pulling up to the spring, wondering what we will find.​

An old boarding house, its state of decay more a function of visitation than weather.​

Still had a nice view out the kitchen window.​

Blatant disrespect from #RunninOffoad on 1-16-21. Color me #NotImpressed and #Disappointed to find out that this guy has a Tacoma when I returned home.​

After seeing the state of the springs and surrounding area, we spent even less time there than we did at the Monarch Mine. Luckily the bad taste in our mouths wouldn't last long as we made our way to the final mine of the trip. Unsure what to expect - and really, with relatively low expectations - we slowly made our way up the road toward the Moorehouse.

This road - unlike the others - was in rough shape. Years of erosion have taken their toll, resulting in several places that were tight even for a 1st gen Tacoma. Throw in loose rocks and steep grades, and you can understand why I'd highly recommend hiking this 2-mile-long route rather than driving.

It was nice to round the final corner to this.​

The extensive complex of adits, ore bins, ore chutes and tramway networks at the Moorehouse was impressive to say the least. Completely by accident, we'd saved the best for last! In relatively good condition, these structures are massive - extending several hundred feet up the hillside and several hundred feet to each side of the dual ore chutes. As we parked the truck and began our exploration on foot, I'm sure @mrs.turbodb would have told you that I could barely contain my excitement.

I still can't really describe how seeing this made me feel.​

On our way to the primary structure, I couldn't pass up a quick look into one of the adits.​

The railway - some of it more than 30 feet in the air - hugged the shape of the hillside as it collected ore from the twin 120-foot long ore chutes.​

Bombs away!​

A fork in the rail.​

After looking over the main structure and ensuring proper operation of the ore chutes we headed up the hillside to the additional levels of the site. Mined all the way to the ridgeline, the road often reached grades well over 30%, and with decades of neglect have nearly become dry falls.

At several levels though, the views made the struggle to the top, worth it.

Trestle to nowhere. Talc carts would have been emptied onto a chute at the end of this structure, the ore destined for the twin chutes below.​

View from the top - or, at least - from the trench that now bisects the summit.​

Our familiar friends, still visible in the distance.​

Now just a bit before 3:00pm, we turned to each other and agreed that this had been the perfect way to end a trip that we'd planned to be entirely different. It's funny how that happens sometimes - plans made and then upended, experiences treasured that may otherwise have never been. It's a good reminder that staying flexible and keeping an open mind are one of the most important aspects of exploring a place like this.

As we headed back down the mountain, our conversation turned toward the long drive home. The best option - we agreed - was to shoot for a bit of BLM land outside of Beatty where we could spend the night with reasonable temperatures. Then, at way-too-early-o'clock, we could begin the long slog north - across the frozen high desert of Nevada and Oregon - only to to hit the sack once we got home, 19 hours later.

Our planning was momentarily interrupted as - coming down from the Moorehouse - we got my favorite view of the Ibex Spring, no derelict buildings in sight.​

We left Beatty just before 3:00am, a cool breeze and 33°F temperatures reinforcing our decision to camp at lower elevations even though it meant a long drive home. It was a reminder we'd get more than once as the miles ticked away.

Sunrise - and moonset - over snowy mountains in the high desert of Nevada.​

A bit chilly in Burns, Oregon.​

Oh, and through it all, the new transfer case performed perfectly. We'd put lipstick on the pig, and damn, it worked!