AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

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One More Day in Dale | Mine Mania #3
Part of the Mine Mania - The Dale Mining District (Feb 2023) trip.

Nestled into the canyon at the Golden Egg Mine, I'd either gotten the truck leveled just right or I was extra tired from the previous day's mine hopping. Whatever the reason, I slept fantastically until about three minutes before my alarm went off. I love nights like that.

What a place to wake up. As if I'm the only one in the entire mining district!​

Exploring into mine adits, shafts, etc. is not safe. I joke around about that a bit in this story, but I just want to be clear: Stay out, stay alive.​

​

Still bummed that I'd failed in my search the previous evening, I ate a quick breakfast snack - of donettes and Fritos - before heading back to the mill to poke around a bit more and hopefully turn up a clue to the fate of the infamous ore cart.

I started by revisiting the adit that was marked on my map. Definitely collapsed.​

After checking out the still-collapsed adit, I poked around the mill a bit on my way back to the Tacoma. It was on the upper level of the mill that I got my clue. There, a vertical shaft plunged down, deep into the mountain. Surely that shaft had to connect to something, didn't it?

I dropped in a rock. Silence. Then, a sound. Not coming from the vertical shaft - instead I heard an echo off the canyon walls below!

Making my way to the edge, I noticed a faint foot trail switch-backing its way deep into the wash below. I'd missed it earlier as the remains - walls and roof - of an old cabin, as well as bits of sheet metal from the mill itself, had collapsed over the closest 30 feet of the trail. Suddenly, I was full of hope.

This looks promising. Could it be that my GPS waypoint was in the wrong spot?​

Having only ever gotten a single set of GPS data from Mike @mk5 - as we planned this trip - my perception was that he's usually quite accurate in his placement of waypoints and trails. This leads me to only one possible conclusion, and it's not pretty: Not only did he hope I wouldn't find the ore cart in the first place, but he wanted me to feel a deep sense of regret that I'd missed it before the adit collapsed.

Jackpot!​

I emailed Mike when I returned and shared a few photos with him, including this one. His reaction confirmed my suspicion, this guy is a complete weasel:

Damn, just some seriously great shots, man. All my favorite spots and more! So wish I had more time to stay out there with you.

Aww shit, you found the ore cart - high-five, bro!

LOL YOU LIT IT UP!

Amazing. Come back some time.​

Of course, I can't wait to meet up again! ​

​

A little further into the adit, I found myself looking up towards the mill from the bottom of the vertical shaft.​

Flush with the warm fuzzy feelings that I can only imagine are what successful people experience on a regular basis, I headed back up to the Tacoma, indulged in a well-deserved bowl of Cheerios, and climbed behind the wheel for the bumpy ride back to the main road and the start of my last full day exploring the plethora of mines that dot the Dale Mining District.

Heading out.​

My route for the day - at least the one I'd planned out the previous evening as I'd decided to stay put at the Golden Egg rather than heading south under cover of darkness - would take me in a generally northwesterly direction, exploring a series of mines along the eastern edge of the Pinto Mountain Wilderness. I didn't know if I'd find any "totally safe" adits worth exploring at any of these mines, but not knowing when I'd be in the area again, I figured that this was as good a time as any to go explore these remote stretches of "totally safe" roads.


The Duplex Mine
I pulled onto the main road - JT1994 - just before 7:45am, and just after the Texan (who'd been camped and cooking dinner at the Sunset Mine the evening before), drove past.

It was slow going behind the Texan.​

Luckily, he noticed me within the first few minutes, and as soon as a wide spot in the road presented itself, he pulled over to let me pass. Recognizing my truck as I pulled along side and stopped to wish him a good morning and let him know that his dinner had smelled divine, he rolled down his window to wish me the same and apologize for not sharing! Now that's some Texas hospitality!

A few minutes later I was once again off the main line, winding my way along a well-built trail that snaked its way along a ridgeline toward the Duplex Mine.

I often wonder if it took miners longer to build the roads than to strike out at their actual mine sites.​

When I arrived at the end of the road and the Duplex Mine, there wasn't much besides this metal frame and a few vertical shafts that remained.​

The views weren't half bad up here.​

I happened to get cell service for the first time in three days up at the top of the Duplex Mine, so I spent a few minutes catching up with @mrs.turbodb, checking the weather forecast, and making sure that there was nothing urgent in my email, before heading back - the entire visit taking less than 20 minutes!

Heading back, the Pinto Mountain Wilderness rising in the distance.​

The Gold Crown Mine
Following a series of roads that have since become a jumble of JT#### designations in my mind, I wound may way through the rocky desert terrain of which I was becoming so accustomed. Headed to the Gold Crown Mine, I was sure that this was going to be something special. After all, ore from the Mission Mine - that I'd visited the evening before - was sent here for processing, so it had to be a reasonably large-scale operation.

What I'd failed to remember - as always, I'm a slow learner - was that large-scale doesn't necessarily meant that anything is left on site. In fact, the more organized an operation, the more likely they are to clean up after themselves... or at least sell off anything of value.

Concrete foundations, shafts, and tailings were all that was left at the Gold Crown Mine. Though, of these, there was no shortage.​

Though there wasn't much remaining, the Gold Crown Mine was one of the most important gold mines in the district during the 1920s and 1930s. Established by the Gold Crown Mining Company in 1926, it consolidated twenty-five claims into a single mine. Mine shafts tunneled to more than 600 feet. The mine got pipe water from New Dale town and for milling its gold and that from the neighboring mines. It closed down in 1938 following the exhaustion of its ore, though reprocessing of tailings continued until 1940.

The mill - with obviously specialized footings - for round tanks, diversions, and of course whatever pulverized the rock into a fine powder - was fun to wonder about.​

I found this photo after I returned.​

As usual, someone wanted me to know they'd been here.​

​

Recognize this guy from the Carlyle Mine? I still don't know (or care) what it says.​

The "Pack Trail" Mine
After a quick look around, I was headed back the way I'd come - across the main road, JT1927 - to a mine that I'd seen on satellite. From that vantage point it appeared to have some structures - perhaps a headframe, maybe some rail line - but was, as far as I could tell, unnamed.

The structures I'd seen turned out to be a collapsed ore chute.​

What I couldn't tell at the time, was that the road up to this unnamed mine was the roughest I'd encounter in my time in the district. Cut into the side of the mountain, the narrow trail was filled with sharp basketball-and-larger sized rocks. It was clear that not many people made it up this way.

Mike would later tell me that it was labeled as a "pack trail" on his old USGS maps. The unnamed mine now had a name!

After getting turned around and having a quick mid-morning lunch of breakfast foods, I gathered up the plethora of lighting equipment that makes any mine adit totally safe, and climbed the tailings pile, hoping that the adit I'd noticed above was open.

I thought it was cool to find some miners marks - Bill and Dennis worked this mine in 1837. Almost 200 years earlier!​

I didn't know it at the time - I've only learned some of this since my return - but one of the things I discovered while I was investigating the "Pack Trail" Mine was the old fuse table. This is where blasting fuses would have been measured and assembled, and in this case, a series of load count dots as well.

Huh, never seen "safe" spelled that way. ​

After poking around the adit for a while - these little LEDs that Mike left are addictive - I headed back towards the collar and proceeded to pick my way down the pack trail, now much more confident since I wasn't worried about running into a washout and finding somewhere to turn around.

Warm glow.​

This looks significantly more inviting than it felt on the way up.​

The Imperial Mine
Still before noon, I headed west again, towards the last mine I'd visit in the district: The Imperial.

One of the lesser visited mines in the district, The Imperial is located in Humbug Mountain - further west than most think of when it comes to the Dale Mining District. Historic details of the mine are scant, but Mike mentioned that when he'd visited several years earlier, he'd hesitated to enter the adit since it was signed as active.

Crossing the desert pavement was pleasurable, the road smooth and the outside temps, perfect.​

Wonder if I'll run into anyone out here?​

Reasonably modern stairs leading up the waste dump outside the lower adit, a convenient touch.​

The mine is made up of two adits and a connecting shaft containing a wooden rock chute, allowing for easier removal of material from the upper shaft. Wooden support structures and braces have been built into the lower adit, which also contains an empty storage room.

I was hoping to find out more details about the mine when I ran into this sign.​

I got a nice chuckle reading this note. My type of folks!​

Whie the upper adit was collapsed, the lower extended 300 feet or so into the mountain, and there were a few spots where modern lighting and tools were present to aid in the removal of ore. I can only imagine how much easier portable generators and modern lighting would have made mining back in the day.

The chute to the upper level has been modernized and is clearly still in operation. (left) | Enough with the LEDs already. (right)​

Ultimately, I never ran into anyone at the Imperial Mine, though I did run into one of the First Class Miners members as I was on my way out. Perhaps 65-years old, she was emptying 5-gallon buckets of gravel onto the road as it passed through a sandy wash. "So that our members with 2WD vehicles can get through," she related to me as we chatted for a few moments. She'd been at it - hauling seven buckets at a time from Twentynine Palms in her Nissan Frontier - for nearly a year. Talk about a lot of work - and ready to be washed away with the next major rainfall - yikes!

Headed out of the Dale Mining District.​

In three days, I'd visited twenty historic mines, ventured further into more adits than I'd care to admit, and gotten a fantastic introduction to the Virginia Dale - Pinto Basin Mining District from Mike. As I headed south towards my next adventure, I already knew that I'd need to come back. In some cases, to visit places I'd already been, but also to travel some roads that were even more remote - to places I'd not yet explored!

​

Time for my first visit to Joshua Tree!​

 

Those are some epic photos!

I got busy at work again... I'm missing some beautiful weekends in the desert. Dang!

I have to apologize, I guess the adit collapsed under the massive weight of the GPS pin I dropped EXACTLY ON TOP OF the ore cart for you. It was a really heavy one, what with all those hyperlinked photos from the four-page conversation in which I told and literally showed you the exact route to reach the ore cart.

I guess in the future, I'll just have to come out to these types of mines with you.

 

Hate those heavy GPS pins. And look man, dropping a pin INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN doesn't help anyone if they're too stooopid to find the entrance.

But, mostly I like the last line.

We're hot and heavy into a DIY kitchen remodel, so I'm missing all the good flowers in the desert too.

​

 

Is that knob and tube wiring I see there? That is quite the mess you've made.

 

Yep. Vintage 1925. Lathe and plaster, knob and tube, and of course plenty of settling out of square in the last hundred years. The mess is cleaned up now, and tomorrow is installation of a couple LVLs to replace a load bearing wall. Then, a bit of framing for new windows and doors, plumbing, and electrical. And cabinets - I built those before demo, so they're ready to go in, luckily. Sounds like it should be done in a week, but I'm sure it'll be months at the pace we're actually going and the various things we already have planned that will get in the way (kiddo's spring break, a trip to Utah at the end of the month, etc.)

 

An Evening in Pinto Basin | Joshua Tree #1
Part of the My First Time in Joshua Tree (Feb 2023) trip.

In all the years I've been exploring the deserts of southern California, I've never made it to Joshua Tree National Park. The reason - if a little lame - is also simple: it's just too far away.

Now, I know what you're thinking - they drive 20+ hours from Washington to Death Valley on a regular basis - and Joshua Tree is too far?

Yes. It's a few more hours, and even I have my limits for what are usually 5-day trips where we leave at 8:00am and need to get at least a few hours of sleep before starting the first of three days exploring before a maniacal drive home.

This time was different. Not only is the Tacoma - which lives in Las Vegas - less than three hours away by plane, but I'd just finished exploring the nearby Dale Mining District with a buddy. With four solid days in front of me - and a long list of places to explore - I figured that I could get a good introduction to this park that I'd only heard about from others.

I am so accustomed to Death Valley that it didn't seem at all strange - at this point - to enter Joshua Tree National Park on dirt roads and without seeing a pay station.​

Not really knowing what to expect, I figured that since Joshua Tree was in the desert, it'd be a lot like Death Valley - low visitation, plenty of spots to "get away," that kind of thing. And, as I headed south - away from the heart of the park and towards a remote corner of Pinto Basin - that's exactly what I got.

I guess the National Park Service (NPS) tries to scare most folks from heading this way. Fine by me!​

Boy, this road sure is nicely graded. Must not see many visitors! ​

I'd later find out that my introduction to this park was not at all normal, but for now - making my way east along Black Eagle Mine Road - I was looking forward to my first hike. It'd be a six-mile trek - trailless and across open desert - to find an Arrastra at the Lucky Turkey Mine, and an old cabin at the Blind Mule Placer Mine. Of course - as usual - I'm getting ahead of myself; first I needed to reach the trailhead.

Pinto Mountain, from the south, was a colorful backdrop as I sped east.​

Skirting the park and the Eagle Mountain Mining District, I couldn't help but to marvel at the landscape unfolding before me.​

Only about two-thirds of the 12-mile-long road was graded, and after bumping my way to the park boundary, things got a little interesting. Here, the road dove into a wash. Already lightly traveled, I wondered - as the last of the tire tracks faded away after a less than a quarter mile as soft sand in the wash got deeper - was I making a poor decision?

Pushing on, I followed the easiest path I could find - winding my way through boulder fields, following the route that the most recent rains had carved, and hoping that I'd pick up the road somewhere up ahead.

I never did, everyone else had turned around.

Making my way down the wash, a (dead) smoke tree looked so graceful against the blue sky.​

Another one. I think the wispiness of the trees and clouds was what got me.​

New life with the old.
(Desert Poppies, Eschscholzia glyptosperma)​

Beside smoke trees and poppies, I also spotted this guy eyeing me warily. It looks like a Western Fence Lizard (blue belly), but the scales seem very pointy!​

Halfway down the wash - or at least, the section of it I was travelling - I hit the boundary between the Eagle Mountain Mining District and Joshua Tree National Park. Denoted only by a few fenceposts across the sandy wash, I found an out-of-the-way spot to park - as if anyone else would be coming along - and gathered up my camera gear. It was 3:15pm - less than two hours before sunset - and I had six miles and some picture-taking to go - I'd be cutting it close to get back before dusk!

The wash was wide and easy to hike, and while the hills weren't dramatic, I enjoyed the subtle color variations.​

Pretty quickly after setting out - perhaps only a little over a quarter mile from the trailhead - I got my first treat. An old stone cabin stood guard on the side of the wash. Whoever built it - and for whatever reason - those details have been lost to time. Still, it's always fun to come upon an old structure like this.

Wood-framed door.​

It was interesting to see how the metal frame was built into the cabin - note the vertical post - when the rockwork was constructed.​

A bench on the shady north side.​

I was really looking forward to the next waypoint on my journey. Not far away, it was an arrastra from the Lucky Turkey Gold Mine. Perhaps because arrastra aren't all that common, or because they are such a low-tech way to coax gold from the ground - or perhaps because I'm easily intrigued - I'd highlighted this hike as one that I didn't want to miss when I'd put together the Joshua Tree trip. Funny thing was, I had several arrastras marked on my GPS, so maybe they aren't as uncommon as I might have thought!

Heading down the wash - and then up into the nearby hills - there were plenty of reminders that spring was right around the corner. Or - I suppose - already here.

Fremont's Pincushion. (Chaenactis fremontii)​

Desert Star. (Monoptilon bellioides)​

Desert Sunflower. (Geraea canescens)​

The Lucky Turkey arrastra was right where I expected to find it, and - like the hike - full of wildflowers! With a commanding view of the wash, it sat some 30 feet below the (now covered and sealed by NPS) vertical shaft from which ore was mined, its wooden drain gate and drag stones seemingly ready to be pressed into service at a moment's notice.

This is one of the cleaner arrangements I've seen - perhaps it was never used very much.​

The drain gate looked to be in great shape.​

I'd dawdled enough that as I picked my way down the hillside - following a few old miner's trails - from the Lucky Turkey, I'd already used up 45- of my 105-minutes before sunset. With five miles left to go, I needed a little less distraction and a little more move-on.

As I reached the mouth of the wash, the Coxcomb Mountains loomed in the distance.​

After hitting the southern border of Pinto Basin, I followed the base of the Eagle Mountains to the left. This - I soon realized - was a lot like the hike that @mrs.turbodb and I had done to Military Canyon at the base of Death Valley's Owlshead Mountains: it was the direct route, but one that required a near constant up-and-down as I traversed wash after wash that cut through the alluvial fan.

In other words, pure torture.

​

Apparently I was not the first to travel this trailless route, though I may have been the only in quite some time. This cairn has been here since at least 2008 when the dzrtgrls came this way and found it.​

I reached the Blind Mule Placer Mine - or at least, the old cabin - only a few minutes before the sun fell below the horizon. Some might say I'd timed it perfectly - to capture the sunset, to take advantage of the warm light - but the reality was that I'd severely overestimated my ability to cover ground without stopping for photos. Seriously dude, will you ever learn? (No.)

Happy to be there, I figured that the walk back - even if it was partially in the dark - would be straight forward - so I set about enjoying myself. Live in the moment, you can always regret it later. Or not.

The little cabin was nestled onto a small shelf a few feet below the bottom of the wash. Probably kept the inhabitant out of the wind, but was certainly living "on the edge" should a heavy rain come through!​

Not much left inside, except for the obligatory box spring.​

Everyone needs gutters.​

Ultimately - cognizant of the time - I only poked around the little cabin for ten minutes or so, since there wasn't a lot to see. With the sky changing color, it was time for me to high-tail it back to the Tacoma, and figure out where I was going to stay for the evening.

Orange and blue.​

Purple delight over the Coxcomb Mountains.​

I made great time hoofing it back to the Tacoma - covering the 2.5 miles in a little less than 40 minutes - only reinforcing the poor timing decisions I'd made earlier in the afternoon. Natural consequences be damned. In fact, there was even a bit of light left when I reached the truck, and I took full advantage - getting dinner prepped and cleaned up before a headlamp was required.

My first night in Joshua Tree was - by far - my most relaxing.​

It'd been a full day - wrapping up one trip and starting right in on another - but one that I'd thoroughly enjoyed. Little did I know that my real introduction to Joshua Tree wouldn't come until the following day - when I'd come face to face with that which I'm always trying to escape.

And it wasn't trouble - I love trouble. It was something much less enjoyable.

 

‘Now, I know what you're thinking - they drive 20+ hours from Washington to Death Valley on a regular basis - and Joshua Tree is too far?’ - You push the limits us humans are able to drive by quite a bit. Part of me says you are nuts, the other part is insanely jealous.



‘And it wasn't trouble - I love trouble. It was something much less enjoyable.‘



Accurate?

 

J-Tree is honestly not the same as it was. I have spent most of my time there in the dark of night. It's a great dark sky site but otherwise a lot more folks than I care for.

 

Never been. I'll have to check it out at some point, but I have definitely heard that it can be a real shitshow a lot of the time.

 

Its popularity with the climbing community and the astronomers fills it up like Alabama Hills at times. I guess it’s location, in Twentynine Palms doesn’t help either. It’s been a year since I was there last but it was full in the middle of the week.

 

How does the location near 29Palms make it desirable? 29Palms is uhh, not the classiest place.

 

No. It isn’t. But it’s in the town.

 

Depends on the people. Crowds of people when I'm trying to get away? Yep, spot on.

This was the thing that surprised me the most - or that I was most unprepared for. I've gotten so used to Death Valley (and MNP and all the other "Mojave/Colorado Desert Places" that I go), where it's rare that I see anyone else when I'm out and about. From all the people who recommended JTNP to me, I expected it to be similar (they are also people who like the remoteness aspect of the aformentioned places).

Au contraire. JTNP was packed, mid-week. I suppose - looking back on it now - that it is the same way in the paved areas of DVNP. The entirety of Badwater road is - to me - an exercise patience. The nice thing about DVNP though, is that once you get off pavement, you won't see another person or vehicle for extended periods of time. In JTNP, there is no real off-pavement, as even the dirt roads are highways and go to heavily trafficked trailheads. So yeah, the crowds weren't really my cup of tea either. Luckily, I was able to find a series of (5-10 mile) hikes that meant others were nowhere to be found...until I had to brave the roads to get to the next trailhead, hahaha!

 

For the most part, the main drag is pretty bad on the weekends. I left a camera running over in the Cactus Garden and ran up to the Palm Springs overlook to see what was up. It was maybe 0230 and there were several cars up there--that was crazy.

There is still stuff to see.

 

Well, thank you all for knocking JTNP off my must visit list. I am content with the many many Joshua Trees I have already seen. It isn’t long before they all look the same and you (I) desire some greenery

 

It is remarkable that they're all named Joshua though, not even a single one responds to Josh or any other name as far as I can tell.

 

Geez man, you’re talking to the trees? What do they put in the water up there in Spokane?

 

Crowds | Joshua Tree #2
Part of the My First Time in Joshua Tree (Feb 2023) trip.

After a very pleasant night - temps in the low 40s °F, only a slight breeze - on the southern edge of Pinto Basin, I was up bright and early to make the 12-mile drive back to the intersection of Pinto Basin, Old Dale, and Black Eagle Mine Roads. I'd gotten out of camp just before sunset, knowing that I had a full day ahead, and knowing - even if I didn't admit it to myself - that each of my dozen or so stops would take longer than I imagined.

As I sped across Pinto Valley, the sun crested the horizon and lit up the Pinto Mountains to my north.​

This was a strange enough cloud formation that I had to stop and grab a photo. Within an hour or so, it was gone.​

By 7:00am, I'd reached the junction. Once again I'd avoided any semblance of a fee station at which to show my America the Beautiful pass, though at this hour on a Sunday, any that I'd have encountered would have been closed. Now on pavement - a surface I hadn't seen for several days at this point - I headed north across Pinto Basin, towards the heart of Joshua Tree.

​

A good chunk of JTNP is comprised of Pinto Basin. (red)​

It is hard to imagine the existence of large bodies of water anywhere in this parched landscape, but exist they did. Here in the Pinto Basin evidence of old shorelines lends proof to a cooler, wetter period when a shallow river coursed the basin. The river attracted life, which explains the fossil bones of extinct camel, horse, llama, sheep, tortoise, and rabbit found here. It also explains the discovery of a distinct human culture that camped along the riverbanks.

Between 1931 and 1935, self-taught archeologists Elizabeth and William Campbell searched up and down this valley. They followed the ancient rivers and terraces for miles, discovering many small campsites and collecting chipped stone tools—leaf-shaped points, scrapers, and choppers. The Campbells recognized that these tools were different from others of the region. When the artifacts were radiocarbon tested years later, they registered more than 9,000 years old and confirmed the existence of a vanished people - the Pinto Culture.

​

One of the few vehicles on the road at this early hour, I moseyed along at a leisurely pace, stopping at every roadside information sign - each of them preceded by at least one "caution, exhibit ahead" sign - as though they were bound to jump out onto the road at the last moment.

Looking back, this may have been a mistake. I could have used the additional 23 minutes of daylight - though even that wouldn't have been enough, and would surely have been consumed by some other meanderingly-slow activity - as I searched for a camp in the black of night.

Still in the largely-unpopulated section of the park I made a quick stop at Porcupine Wash to eat breakfast and find the petroglyphs I knew were somewhere along its banks. I also began my cataloguing of cacti - an activity I would thoroughly enjoy the entire time I was in Joshua Tree. In fact, I'd argue that the cacti here are more interesting than the Joshua Trees, which are more plentiful, larger, and more photogenic in both Death Valley National Park and the Mojave National Preserve.

As I searched for rock art, this cholla seemed to glow in the morning sun. It would be the first of many varieties of this god-awful plant that I would encounter.​

It struck me how similar these symbols were to the symbol that cartographers use to indicate a spring. Of which, there appeared to be one behind these rocks.​

Bladder-Pod. (Isomeris arborea)​

Continuing north, I passed by Turkey Flats and the base of Pinto Mountain as I continued to gain elevation, climbing out of Pinto Basin and toward two of the strangest gardens one can hope to encounter - one of Ocotillo, and another of Teddy Bear Cholla. Frankly, at this point - now an hour or so inside the park - I was starting to wonder two things: first, where are all the Joshua Trees? Second, I always envisioned this park as being one that was a wonderlands of rocks - similar to City of Rocks or Alabama Hills. And yet - so far - I had yet to encounter any decomposing granite. What gives?

Turkey Flats isn't really flat (it's an alluvial fan) and Pinto Mountain is 3,983 feet tall.​

One of the larger Ocotillo I encountered as I wandered through the patch. Apparently - and to my surprise - not a cactus.​

The thorny, multi-stem shrub is in fact a woody deciduous plant. Unlike other deciduous shrubs, which normally grow leaves in the spring and drop them in the fall, the ocotillo may grow and drop leaves as often as five times during the year. Its leaves aren't season dependent but rain dependent.​

A leafy ocotillo I'd seen a few days earlier in Anza-Borrego.
​

After wandering around trying to find the perfect ocotillo shot - an activity I generally enjoyed, though that probably appeared to passers-by as a weirdo making random turns in the desert - I drove only another mile or so before the landscape changed entirely.

To one of pure evil.

Pure evil. (Teddybear Cholla, Cylindropuntia bigelovii)​

Mosquitoes of the cactus family.​

Seriously, if you've never experienced a cholla before, count your blessings. Anyone or anything that so much as looks at one of these cacti will immediately feel its wrath. Not only will the segments - each with thousands of barbed needles - pull off of the main plant at the slightest touch, but the damn things are purposefully shed - littering the ground with obstacles worse than land mines. Seriously, spreading these over enemy territory would compel unconditional surrender within minutes.

Cholla balls. Of evil.​

Don't let the flowers fool you. Pure. Evil.​

I'd encounter more cholla over the remainder of my stay, but never at the same density as this torture chamber. Where they'd built a parking lot. And where I saw - in the 15 minutes I was there - more than one small child wishing they'd listened to their parents. Remember kids, stay the trail.

Glad to be done without being viciously attacked - except for a dozen or so cholla balls I accidentally stepped on and subsequently had to pick out of the soles of my shoes while praying to the deities of every religion to keep me safe - I pushed on to my first long(er) hike of the day.

As with the nearby Dale Mining District, Joshua Tree had its fair share of mining activity prior to its designation as a National Monument in 1936 and Park in 1994. I'd visit a few of these mines over the course of my stay, and up first was a loop past the Silver Bell and Golden Bell - two gold mines in the Hexie Mountains.

The ore bins of the Silver Bell - once used to feed a stamp mill and amalgamation table - overlook the north end of Pinto Basin, and are visible from the main road through the park.​

Colorful ore still decorates the hillside. The Silver Bell first worked gold in the 1930s, then lead in the 1940s and copper in the 1950s.​

A little azurite is always a fun find. (But leave it there when you're in a National Park.)​

Looking down from the Silver Bell towards the Golden Bell.​

Having conquered the uphill section of the loop on the way to the Silver Bell's ore bins, it was pleasant traversing a trail that's downhill - and no longer heavily traveled - between the two mines. Expansive views and a few encounters with the current residents were more than enough to put a smile on my face.

Mr. Spider was in a rush to get where he was going.​

Mr. Lizard was content to lay in the sun.​

Mr. Pencil cholla is evil, but not pure evil like his teddybear cousin. (Cylindropuntia ramosissima)​

There wasn't much left at the Golden Bell mine - an ore chute, dump pile, and cyanide tank were all the equipment remaining (and of course, some sealed shafts).​

It was after hiking the Hexie Mountains that things really started to change; when I realized that people are talking about Joshua Tree, they're actually talking about a very small part of a reasonably large place. It happened to coincide with the transition from Colorado Desert to the Mojave Desert as I climbed in elevation through Wilson Canyon.

It was there - at White Tank - that I hit the Wonderland of Rocks. And people.

Now, this is what I was thinking of when I pictured Joshua Tree.​

The first thing I'd planned to visit was Arch Rock. I'd envisioned it as a short loop that'd wind through the rockery, leading to an arch that I could find a cool angle to photograph, and then continue on my way. What I hadn't envisioned was that the trailhead would be at a campground - and that the short loop would be a highway.

Following the trail, I soon arrived at Arch Rock and realized that not all national parks are like Death Valley, where I can go days without seeing another soul.​

I should have also realized at this point that the camping situation would be a little different than that to which I'm accustomed, but I wasn't sharp enough to realize that, yet. And of course, it'd be too late when I finally did!

For now, I dove off the side of the main trail and into the wonderland of rocks. Like other wonderlands, I hoped that there'd be plenty of cool nooks and crannies to discover; places just far enough off the trail - in some cases even just a few feet - that the hoards would simply pass them by.

Reflected light.​

This looks intriguing...​

Narrow passages and chokestones.​

Dark to light.​

Heart rock.​

In the end, I spent quite a bit more time wandering around than I'd planned - likely a result of my first exposure to the big pile of decomposing granite that I'd been looking forward to - but eventually I found my way back to the Tacoma and continued on my way.

By this point it was right around noon and the once-lightly travelled roads were now crawling with vehicles. Realizing that this was going to be a slightly different experience than the one I'd had just a few days earlier in the nearby Dale Mining District, I quickly panned through the list of places I wanted to see and tried to sort them by a combination of proximity and popularity. This would allow me to visit them efficiently, but also try to visit the busy ones first, leaving me with a more relaxing experience for the remainder of the trip.

In the end, that turned out to be a fantastic exercise that resulted in a much more enjoyable time in the park. Plus, as a bonus, my next immediate destination was a cross-country hike where the likelihood of running into others was nearly nil - the Pinto Wye arrastra.

Yep, another arrastra!

I jumped like a scared toddler when I flushed a nesting cactus wren out of this evil Silver Cholla. (Cylindropuntia echinocarpa)​

One of the coolest arrastra I've seen.​

Wagon Wheel arrastras are a bit of a rare breed, not too many of them are known to still exist. This one seems to have two wagon wheels joined together as its pivot mechanism. Originally driven by a four-horsepower International upright gasoline engine that drove a belt that spun the arrastra.

Local legend claims that the first operators of the mill used the wagon wheel as the pulley, but found it went too fast. They then added the larger, wooden wheel to reduce the revolutions per minute. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but it would seem to make sense.

Neat to see the drag stones still chained to the wheel.​

The builder of this wagon wheel arrastra is unknown. It was probably used in the 1930s. The arrastra was powered with a gasoline engine, using a belt around the central wheel. Earlier arrastras were usually powered with animals, steam, or water.

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Historic engineering record, National Park Serivce, Delineated by Ruth Connell, 1991.​

Gold ore, water, and mercury were placed on the circular stone floor. Several stones were dragged around the floor, crushing the ore and mixing it with water and mercury. Mercury combined with gold, forming what is called an amalgam. This amalgam was then heated, separating the now gaseous mercury from the gold. The gold could be sold to the United States Mint, used in trade, or used to purchase goods.

This arrastra, named the Pinto Wye Arrastra because of its location, is on the National Register of Historic Places as an Important example of nineteenth and early twentieth century milling technology.

NPS sign​

Making my way back, I noticed - but didn't investigate - one of the shafts above the arrastra. And, only on my return, did I discover that there is a small mine camp in some nearby boulders. Something to look forward to next time!

For now, I was headed to what I assumed were three very popular sites where I suspected that a quick photo or two would be all I could muster before feeling the urge to escape the crowds on another longer hike.

Site 1: Split rock. (left) | Thumb rock. (right)​

Site 2: Face rock. (left) | Site 3: Skull rock. (right)​

I think I enjoyed this rock garden nearly as much as the tourist traps.​

Continuing west, I hoped that I was mostly done with the crowded parts of the park - not that I wasn't part of the problem - leaving me with longer, more remote hikes for the duration of my stay. For now, I was headed to the Desert Queen and Eagle Cliff mines, a 3.5-mile roundtrip that would consume much of the rest of my afternoon.

As I headed toward the Desert Queen, I wasn't worried about losing the trail. Ironically, I lost it about three minutes later.​

This old structure was curious, as there was no entrance to the far room from any side. Perhaps it'd been restacked by NPS over the years?​

The Desert Queen is one of the largest mines in the park, and while it wasn't spectacularly successful, it was sufficiently productive to remain in operation for nearly seventy-five years.

First discovered in 1893 by Frank James - who was working as a miner over at the Lost Horse Mine - a local rancher named Jim McHaney soon learned of the rich lode. Legend goes that he and a few other cowboys: Charlie Martin and George Meyers, decided they wanted the Desert Queen mine for themselves. One day, in April 1894, they visited James at his cabin, during which time one of the cowboys, Charlie Martin, shot James twice and killed him. Martin claimed self-defense and was acquitted at an inquest - conveniently held at the McHaney Ranch - the following year. McHaney, his brother Bill, Martin, and Meyers quickly took control of the mine and began to develop it. Gold ore was hauled to the two-stamp mill at Pinyon Well for a time before eventually being hauled to the Wall Street Mill.

In 1895, McHaney purchased a five-stamp mill from the Baker Iron Works of Los Angeles and erected it at their Desert Queen Ranch (now known as Keys Ranch), while at the same time buying out Marin and Meyer's shares of the mine in order to consolidate control.

It didn't take long for McHaney to squander his newly found fortune and by 1896 he and his brother Bill were forced out. Controlling ownership of the mine changed hands a few times but by 1902 it was owned by S. F. Zambro, who was a banker from San Bernardino. Zambro continued to work the mine and, by 1907, the mine had reportedly produced over 3,700 ounces of gold.

In 1907, the mine changed hands again when William Morgan invested nearly half a million dollars to develop the mine further. The new shafts and workings did not find any rich new gold ore, though. Morgan hired Bill Keys around 1910 as mine supervisor. Morgan died in 1915 and the mine transferred to Keys who continued to work and lease the mine periodically until 1961, producing a few hundred ounces of gold in that time.

Desert Queen Mine​

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Today, the Desert Queen - four vertical shafts, five inclined shafts, and ten horizontal adits - is mostly in ruins.​

This old single-piston engine is one of the few pieces of machinery still on site.​

I didn't spend much time at the Desert Queen, as the more interesting destination was actually the Eagle Cliff Mine, a little more than a mile further along the trail. This mine, while not unknown, seems much less frequently visited and - I had heard - was the location of a pretty unique cabin that I was excited to check out.

Along the way, this Dollarjoint Pricklypear was looking fine. (Opuntia chlorotica)​

Holey rock.​

It was fun to realize that the views along this trail have probably stayed the same for thousands of years, and wonder about the people who'd travelled this way before me.​

Forty-five minutes and some tricky route-finding later, I found myself at the site of the old Eagle Cliff Mine. Much smaller than the Desert Queen, it was discovered by Robert Muir in 1895, and a 75-foot inclined shaft was dug to follow the main vein of gold. By 1916, Bill Keys owned the mine and while it generally sat idle, some minor production was carried out by his brother-in-law, Albert Lawton, in 1933. Burros packed the ore to Keys’ Wall Street Mill where it proved to be - like the majority of mines across the west - relatively unprofitable.

It was time to start hunting for the cabin.

First I found a little cave with what I can only assume is a bit of modern graffiti.​

Found it!​

I was quite excited when I found the cabin. Built into the surrounding rocks, it would turn out - like the arrastras I'd see on this trip - to not be one of a kind, but that didn't make it any less thrilling to discover. If you go looking for it, please be sure to leave everything you find, so others can have a similarly fun experience.

Looking out the front door.​

The main room.​

Kitchen cabinet.​

By now it was nearing 3:45pm. With a little more than an hour of daylight - and knowing that I had a couple more places I wanted to check out, plus the need to find somewhere to camp - I made good time back to the Tacoma, somehow limiting myself to no photos on the return trip. Talk about willpower!

Figuring that I should find a camp spot first - and realizing part way through the day that the only camping in Joshua Tree is in campgrounds (the horror) - I pulled into the Hidden Valley campground just after 4:30pm.

Full.

Finding a ranger, I inquired as to the status of other campgrounds in the park - curious as to where I'd have the best chance of finding an open spot, as they are all available on a first-come-first-served basis.

Politely, but also clearly a little incredulous, I was informed that the campgrounds generally fill by noon; there was no way I was going to get a spot.

Well then. That was a problem I was going to need to deal with. Later. There was nothing I could do about it now, so I thanked the ranger and headed off to find my treasure for the day - one of two "lady" pictographs I'd search for in the park.

Meet the Brunette Red Lady pictograph.​

Thrilled too have found my final bit of rock art for the day, I was headed back to the Tacoma - to actually figure out what I was going to do for the nigh, since I had to sleep somewhere - when I noticed this skinny, narrow arch out of the corner of my eye. I don't think there are many arches in the park, and I don't know how well-known this one is - I'd not heard of it - so it was a fun discovery to cap off the day!

At first I wasn't sure if it was an arch.​

But then, blue sky!​

Taking a quick look at the GPS, I realized I had two choices: 1) I could drive back into the Dale Mining District and find a spot on BLM land to call my own for the night, B) I could head into a remote region of the park - Covington Flat - and hope that I wouldn't be disturbed by anyone at the end of some road, somewhere.

Knowing I probably wouldn't make it to Covington Flat for any other reason, I decided that I might as well see if I could find a nice place in that area to camp, even though it'd take an hour or so just to get there. And so, with my lights ablaze, I headed north, west, south, and northwest again until I found myself perched at the top of Eureka Peak.

The only one for miles, I was far from alone.​

Deploying the tent and making a quick dinner, I gazed out over Palm Springs and hoped that the 10mph winds would remain calm through the night. If they didn't, this wasn't going to be fun.

Not at all.

 

Ah yes, Panamint city, looks a bit different than when a friend and I hiked up there in 89- I think it was. We dropped off his truck at the base of Johnson canyon and got dropped off at the bottom of Surprise canyon and headed up the road up to Panamint City.
We hiked up the road to the town site and spent the night up there, then hiked on over Panamint pass and down to Hungry Bill’s ranch, ate a few dates and apples and headed back down to the truck to head back to Furnace Creek.
A great spot to hang out, it looks as though at some point someone had done some road work since we were there, to get some of the larger equipment out, we saw a 10 ton dump truck very road worthy and a couple of large Cat generators on skid maybe 500+ KW. Everything was in decent shape. Sometimes it’s better to not have a road, keeps the yahoos in their rigs instead of stomping about and desecrating these sites.
Did you see the bent airplane prop- looked like someone might have set down abit tail high and bent the first couple feet. Great trip write up as usual.
Looking forward to getting the rig set up and getting back down to the valley for some longer trips than just a weekend!