AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

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(Well done!)

 

In Search of Overlooks - A Fall Trip to Western Death Valley #1

Death Valley is not nearby, and yet - it continues to call time after time, urging us to make the 20 hour journey south to explore its wonders. And it's hard to say no. That's how - on a Wednesday morning - we found ourselves packed up in the truck and heading towards southern California, excited for the three-and-a-half days we'd have to explore.

I promised myself that this trip would be different. We wouldn't attempt to squeeze everything in; I wouldn't over-schedule our time; it wouldn't be like it always is - a mad dash to not miss a thing. I'd do this by keeping us in the northwest corner of the park - in Eureka and Saline Valleys, and by planning at most a single morning and single afternoon "attraction."

Or so I thought.

By the end (literally, shortly after midnight) of our first full day of driving, we made it to Walker Lake. There are a couple of free BLM campgrounds along the edge of the lake, and though they are very close to the highway, @mrs.turbodb and I were both exhausted and decided that trying to make it two more hours to a spot we'd found outside of Dyer, NV to camp was just not in the cards. We climbed into the tent and within minutes we were both sound asleep.

Five hours later, at 5:30am, my alarm went off. Unlike most mornings, it wasn't set early to catch the sunrise, but was instead because we needed to get on the road if we were going to have time to do everything I'd planned for the day. (Yes, I realize now that this is perhaps not the approach that leads to a more relaxed trip.) Still, getting up early did have its benefits!

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Intriguing sun shades provide relief to campers in the summer months.​

By 9:00am, we'd fueled up in Dyer (Note: though the pumps appear closed before the store is open, hunt around and figure out how to use your credit card by lifting the rubber cover.) and were turning off onto dirt - our entrance into the park via North Eureka Valley Road, one that was new for @mrs.turbodb, and in my opinion the second nicest way into the park (because it's hard to beat Titus Canyon Rd.)

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Under the warm morning sun we made good time, even with some photo stops for me, and geology stops for @mrs.turbodb, and it wasn't long before we reached the north end of Eureka Valley - the dunes where we'd be spending the night still just out of sight behind the north end of the Last Chance Range.

And they'd stay hidden a while longer, because our first destination was up in the mountains - to investigate the old sulfur mine and town site of Crater.

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The Crater Mine - and its associated town - started operation in 1929 and produced 50,000 tons of pure sulfur by the time it closed down in 1969 (nearly 30% of all California's sulfur) and the area is still rich with the stinky stuff - some 3,000,000 tons of the stuff still left in the ground! (Hiking Western Death Valley)

As we pulled up to the mine site, the remnants of the last refinery were immediately visible in the middle of a barren playa. Over the course of mining here, twice there were sulfur dust explosions as the material was refined for transport. Most prominent were the crusher and retort, now laying like a lunar lander in the sulfur ore, its refractory bricks still lining the interior.

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Wandering around, one could only wonder who kept passing gas as the sun's rays warmed the strikingly yellow ground around us, the light breeze only serving to waft the smell past our noses.

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Most of the mines we find ourselves exploring are shaft-style mines, and Crater is one of the few pit mines that we've ever really walked around. The destruction of this style of mining was immediately apparent, the entire hillside having been carved out in search of quick profits.

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Soon enough, we decided it was time to move on. Just up the hill was the old town site of the same name, all of its buildings reduced to piles of timber by the passing of time. Only three relics mark the town site today - some sort of old double-door cooler, a pair of water tanks, and a storage shed built into the hillside. In all honesty, probably not worth visiting if you want my opinion!

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Now, at this point, my plan had been that we'd eat lunch and then make our way back down into Eureka Valley so we could find a nice spot to camp and then make our way up the dunes. But @mrs.turbodb had gotten to reading Digonnet's Book, and well... there were several interesting things nearby that we decided we might as well add to the schedule.

So, after less than two hours in the park, our plan to keep things simple and not pack too much into a day went by the wayside. We were once again in full-on OMG there's so much to see mode.

Our first detour was to the El Captan Mine. This was an old Mercury mine, the 800-foot long shaft still completely open and easily large enough to drive a Tacoma into. Keen to stay alive, we refrained from such a foolish move - though curiosity did get the best of me and I walked in 50' or so - opting instead to drive up the hill through which the shaft passes to an enormous hole that was created at the other end.

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The hole was originally an access shaft that intersected the mine shaft 60-feet lower than its entrance, but when Mercury was found in the surrounding cinnabar ore, it became a glory hole - the material simply dropped down the hole to the end of the mine shaft where it could be hauled out. We kept ourselves out of this side of the mine altogether, its geological state clearly more precarious than the main shaft opening.

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Our second mine explored, both of our stomachs were now audibly reminding us that our early morning departure meant that our first meal of the day was lunch - so we setup in the shade near the El Captan mine and devoured a couple of turkey sandwiches, potato chips, and a crispy cool apple before making our way back out towards Crater and something we'd missed our first time through.

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See, in the early days of sulfur mining, rather than use the lunar-lander-looking retort to refine material, sulfur was melted - and concentrated - in large ovens. If you wonder - as we did - why would someone ever put an extremely flammable material into an oven? Well, I guess that's why there aren't many of these ovens still around. But one still exists in the area and we were going to check it out.

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The oven was perhaps the coolest thing we'd seen so far, and the ground around it was pretty cool too. Even more so than the parts of Crater we'd already explored, it was peppered with crystallized, yellow rocks. Yep, you know it, fart rocks.

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Well, the little yellow rocks did a great job of covering up any digestion issues we were having from lunch - not that I recall us having any - but it was time for us to move on... sort of. We still weren't headed down to the base of the Eureka Dunes, but instead were headed up to what would be the first of many spectacular valley views we'd experience on this trip.

It was as though - without even knowing it - we were, In Search of Overlooks.

At this one, we caught our first glimpse of the Eureka Dunes. At 680-feet tall, they are some of the tallest in North America - and yet in the distance and next to the Last Chance Range, they seemed anything but. It's yet another great reminder of how vast Death Valley really is!

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Our appetites now whet, we decided we'd leave the exploration of this overlook and its surrounding mines for another visit, and make our way to our previously planned destination: the dry camp at Eureka Dunes.

Cruising along Eureka Valley Road, all of our attention was in front of us - the brilliant dunes rising up out of the valley floor. Little did we know that behind us, the wing nut securing the fuel jerry cans was working its way loose, and would soon be lost to the desert, another victim of washboard roads. :annoyed_gaah:

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Luckily, this would turn out to be the only (known) casualty of the trip - and even so, one that didn't really affect us as the full cans were tightly wedged into the carrier on our CBI bumper, keeping them secure even at high speeds through the harsh terrain.

Before long we arrived at Eureka Dunes dry camp, happy to find ourselves alone on a Thursday night in the cluster of five or so sites. Picking one that we hoped would position us well for sunrise, I was excited. In my previous trips to Death Valley, I've always wanted to hike to the top of Eureka Dunes, but have never had the chance.

Today, that was going to change. Maybe. Because from down here, the dunes sure looked high. Add to that the fact that we were running on five hours of sleep, we were a couple hours behind schedule due to our well-honed squirrel-like attention spans earlier in the day, and the knowledge that the late fall sunset was a mere 2½ hours away... You can understand why we started talking about maybe just going up an intermediate dune to get some good photos.

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Hiking the dunes turned out to be like no other hike I've ever experienced. First of all, there's the sand - and hiking up mountains of the stuff - with slopes up to 45° in some places - is like walking up the down escalator... you swear your legs are moving, and yet you're not making any forward progress.

Add to that the sheer size of the dunes, and the struggle was real. And - while I must admit that we probably felt like this little beetle climbing the dunes - its struggle was more real than ours.

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One foot in front of the other, some slipping and sliding, and eventually we made it to the top of our first ridge. The closest ridge to camp, it was clear that we weren't the first to make it here, footsteps transforming the sharp edge into a trail.

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Even here, on this - the top of our first peak - the views were stunning. To our north, the colorful Last Chance Range towered above us, to the south, the dunes spilled over the valley floor another three miles into the distance.

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It was also here that @mrs.turbodb and I had a little "discussion" about what to do next. Despite our earlier conversation about staying at lower elevations, I was no longer sure that just exploring the dunes would be enough for me - I knew I'd regret not going to the top. Luckily for me, she decided to push through the tired legs and lack of sleep and we continued climbing.

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Let me tell you something that is worth it: reaching the overlook atop Eureka Dunes. Here, with a little effort - OK, a lot of effort and some strategic planning of where to step in order to keep the dunes pristine - we found ourselves atop a clean crisp ridge, the sun just moments from dropping below the Saline Range to our south west. It was - if there ever was - a moment to celebrate!

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Not 60 seconds after capturing our success, the dunes were cast into shadow and we knew it was time to get going. Surely it'd be faster than the trek up, but it was still nearly two miles back to the truck. With the moon already rising to the east, we started down.

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The trip down was easier - but no less exhilarating - than the trip up. The best part - something everyone must experience for themselves - was the singing sand. As we'd walk down the dune, sand avalanching down the face of the dune would create friction, emitting an acoustic air wave that sounds like a distant airplane. It was truly spectacular.

And of course, the sky was putting on a show at the same time. As the colors above us transitioned from blue to purple over the course of our 40-minute descent, we couldn't have found ourselves in a more perfect spot.

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We arrived back at camp just a little after 5:00pm, night already starting to set in. Our first order of business - emptying our shoes and socks of the gallons of sand we'd picked up along the hike - was completed quickly, both of us hungry and looking forward to both dinner and bed.

While @mrs.turbodb got started on dinner - a chicken and asparagus risotto she'd mostly prepared at home, I set about deploying the tent and getting everything ready for us to crash for the night.

Dinner was delicious - its warmth welcome in the cold night air, the chicken and rice doing a good job of refueling us after our long day. It was just after 7:00pm when finished brushing our teeth and found ourselves climbing up the ladder into the tent to read our Kindles and drift off to sleep as the nearly-full moon illuminated the valley around us.

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It had been a full day, and there was a lot more to come!

 

Very cool photograph. The setup is intriguing.

 

I like your avatar! Drummer here as well..

 

Thanks! I love that pic too, was fun finding a place we could do it, and then figuring out how.

 

You visited some interesting sites! Makes me want to go look for myself!

 

Old Roads and Star Trails - In Search of Overlooks #2

One benefit of going to bed at 7:30pm is that even waking up as the sun crested the Last Chance Range at 6:30am, I got a full night sleep...and then some. And that was a good thing - because even in my attempt to plan reasonable-length days before heading out on this adventure, I knew I'd failed for this day - we had a lot to do. I'll get a bit ahead of myself here, but our goal was to make it out of Eureka Valley, explore some vast swaths of Saline Valley, conquer two multi-mile hikes, and eventually backtrack quite a few miles to camp at the middle Saline Valley Warm Springs.

Yeah, I'm not sure what I was thinking. Except that at 6:30am, all I was really thinking about was how cold it was (our water had frozen overnight) and how nice the sun felt as it finally started to warm us up in camp.

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We ate a quick breakfast as we got the tent put away, and it wasn't long before we here headed south - past the dunes we'd hiked the day before - and towards our exit from Eureka Valley.

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That exit - as anyone familiar with the area has likely already realized - was via Dedeckera Canyon and Steel Pass. This fun little section of road would be the most technical that we'd traverse in the park on this trip, and was something I'd been looking forward to since I'd traveled it in the opposite direction a little more than 18 months earlier. At the time, I'd had less experience, and was glad to have been descending the four closely-spaced obstacles through Dedeckera rather than climbing them; gravity seemingly in my favor.

This time, I was happy to climb them - the challenge of something a little more exciting, my motivating factor. It wasn't long before we hit the first narrow, rocky section.

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Well, I must say - while it was fun, and a little narrow... I've clearly been jaded by the last 18 months of adventures. This is - I suppose - to be expected, but at the same time I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little bummed.

It was of course still a beautiful drive, and @mrs.turbodb - having been on fewer trips - got plenty of thrills as we squeezed through the various narrows and climbed up over the dry falls; the e-brake just strong enough to hold he truck without slipping in a couple of situations as I hopped out to snap a quick photo.

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Something that was hard to capture on this trip through the canyon due to the long, early morning shadows - and that I think many people miss because they are focused on the driving - is that there are several very interesting looking side canyons branching off of the main wash. I had assumed that this might be my last trip through Dedeckera given its remoteness in relation to everything else in Death Valley National Park, but I can confidently say now that I will be back to this region - both to explore these side canyons, as well as several more places in Eureka Valley that have piqued my interest!

Today however, we passed by the side canyons and made our up and over through Steel Pass; we had places to be, and a limited number of hours to accomplish that be-ing.

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As Saline Valley opened up in front of us, we both took in our first view of where we'd be spending the next couple of days. This valley and the Inyo Mountains to its west were to be our stomping grounds - our goal to uncover, and yet still keep, a few of its secrets.

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...So that's where this trip report is going to get a bit weird. I'm going to do things a little out of order and with some location redaction - in hopes of keeping a few of these special places special for just a little longer. If you find them, I think it'd be swell if you'd do the same!​

While it's obvious that salt plays an important role in Saline Valley's history, I think most people who've been there are mostly - or only - familiar with the Salt Tram that carried the white crystals up and over the Inyo Mountains to the west, and out to the Owens Valley.

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Well, it turns out that this was the both the initial and final path for the harvested salt, but it wasn't the only successful path over which the salt was transported. For that, we need to reach a bit deeper into the history of the operation. The brain child of an attorney named White Smith, the salt tram was constructed - at great cost - between 1911 and 1913.

Unfortunately, there were flaws in the construction which limited the amount of salt it could transport and by 1920, having transported only 5,000 tons of salt, Smith's company went bankrupt, and the tram was repossessed by the builder.

Not to be dissuaded, Smith lobbied the county to build a road from the Owens Valley to Saline Valley, via San Lucas Canyon. This road too took over two years to build. When completed, trucks would carry 10-ton loads of salt along a trail famed by miners to be "so precarious, it is only navigable by those crazy enough to do it drunk."

Last driven in the 1930's, no part of this dirt road is recognizable today - with one exception. At the most dangerous point on the route - where the road navigated around the edge of a 50-foot dry fall - a narrow ledge can be seen cut into the side of the canyon wall.

And that's where we were headed. Assuming my plan worked out.

See, rather than take the normal route from the top of San Lucas Canyon to the dry fall, I'd found a faint road and a side canyon that appeared to connect back into San Lucas - saving approximately 2 miles of hiking - assuming that it was passable. And it started with driving high above Saline Valley before parking the truck in a flexy spot at the top of the side canyon.

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From there, we headed down the unnamed side canyon. Unlike Ken @DVexile, this was my favorite type of hike - where the down happens before the up. Way easier on the knees that way!

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A mile or so in, our side canyon narrowed, and I looked over to @mrs.turbodb and declared, "Well, moment of truth. I hope there's no dry fall up ahead!"

Of course, there was a dry fall. Lucky for us, it was navigable. In fact, it was perhaps the most fun part of the hike - highly recommend!

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And with that, we joined up with the San Lucas Canyon as it snaked its way through the Inyo Mountains and toward Saline Valley.

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Over the course of the next mile - and a 1,000-foot elevation drop - down San Lucas Canyon, the scenery was nothing short of spectacular. For anyone who is into geology, this is yet another place near Death Valley not to be missed.

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With brilliant oranges, striking blue, white, and black lines, and a nearly limitless array of twisted layers, our hike to our destination was peppered with gasps, finger pointing, and the sound of clicking cameras. Crickets chirped loudly in shady spots along the wash as we dizzily tried to take in everything around us.

And then, we reached the main attraction. Everything we'd seen so far paled in comparison. As the walls of the canyon narrowed to reveal the 50-foot dry fall, the colors, shadows, and canyon floor all came together to form what felt like a magical room in the middle of nowhere. We'd arrived.

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There, in front of us, was the old road bed carved into the canyon wall. That this was at one point driveable boggles the mind. To do it with a 10-ton load seems like it would have been foolish at best.

This is a hard place to capture, but we tried.

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Looking "down" the old road, carved into the right canyon wall. The dry fall is straight ahead, over the edge.​

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Looking "up" the old road.​

With more time, we could have easily spent several hours poking around this amazing place. Old - surely hand built - retaining walls are now crumbling in the scree field they once supported. Large steel anchors - perhaps used to secure loads as they were transported along this dangerous section of trail - are now slowly rusting away. And an ammo box, with a few lonely signatures of visitors to this special place.

In fact, if not for the visitor immediately prior to us - who inspired this little adventure for me in the first place - we'd have been the first ones to sign the log since 2013, with only about a dozen entries since 1995!

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Too soon, we knew it was time to turn back. It'd taken us 90 minutes to make the hike down the canyon, and we weren't sure how long the return trip would take, but we knew the sun set early and we had more that we wanted to do! So it was that as we looked up the entrance to the dry fall, the afternoon light beckoned us forward and we headed that direction.

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We ended up making really good time - an hour or so, as I recall - back up both San Lucas and the side canyon via which we'd originally entered, the dry fall separating the two proving once again to be the most fun part of the hike! And with that, we were on our way.

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Now - to get to-and-from the San Lucas Canyon hike, we had to traverse a couple of the more well-known features of the area: South Pass - at the south end of Saline Valley, and Lee Flat - south of Saline and west of Panamint Valley. Both @mrs.turbodb and I have done these before - this route being the same we'd taken after driving down Lippincot Pass a couple of years earlier - but that didn't mean we weren't any less captivated as we encountered them this time.

At South Pass, the Panamint Valley is revealed in all its glory as you come around the mountain, and then - as if the first sighting wasn't enough - there are several spectacular overlooks. This one in particular - with the dunes below - reminded me of the overlook we found of Eureka Valley the day before.

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And who wouldn't be blown away in this Joshua Tree forest, strait out of a Dr. Seuss book? These trees - which can be up to 300 years old - grow only in very specific climates, and there's concern that within the next 50-100 years, many of the areas that contain high concentrations today will no longer be habitable due to climate change, resulting in between 80-99% of the trees dying off.

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Having found the road used to transport salt from Saline Valley, we decided it would only be fitting to also hike a section of the more remote - western part - of the Salt Tram trail.

As I mentioned previously, this Salt Tram was built shortly after 1910, but underperformed before 1920 when the road through San Lucas Canyon was constructed. Smith, who'd always hoped to see the tramway come back to life died in 1927, but his company pressed on, reacquiring the property the next year. By December 1928, 60-100 tons of salt was being delivered each day to the Owens Valley, and some 30,000 tons were delivered by the time the tramway finally shut down.

We decided to hike the first 3.x miles of this trail - from Saline Valley to the first control tower - some ~1,700-feet up the sheer Inyo Mountains rising out of the valley floor. But first we drove to the end of the road, where we parked near an old tramway tower that had seen better days.

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Our destination - high to the west - beckoned. The trail to achieve it, was unclear.

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Luckily I'd created a track for this hike - so at 2:30 in the afternoon we set off on foot, hoping that we'd soon find a well-trodden trail. And, while we'd eventually find a trail, it was anything but well-trodden. Though, now I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, we discovered several old relics - tramway buckets, supporting brackets, and old cables littered the path between towers. Likely from both the time of operation as well as the decades since, this was quite obviously not an easy environment for steel.

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Eventually, we did find a trail - its width less than 18-inches wide as it switch-backed up the steep mountain. Passable, but barely.

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We pushed on, our elevation climbing quickly, our feet slipping here and there on the loose rock. As we went, the tram towers grew larger, the Tacoma in the distance, much smaller.

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After an hour, we crested a hill that I'd say marked a little past the halfway point of the hike, and @mrs.turbodb had had enough. We'd already lost the trail a couple of times by this point - scrambling straight up to find the next switchback - and she decided that she'd wait here while I pushed on to the top...or at least to the top for us - the first control tower.

Which by the way was tantalizingly close when fully zoomed in.

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Setting out on my own, the next quarter mile was no problem at all. Moving quickly, I figured it'd be 45 minutes or so for me to cover the 2.5 miles to the tower and back. And then, things slowed down dramatically. As the angle of the mountain increased, the width of the trail decreased. No longer were the wide sections 18-inches and a little off-camber; they were now 6-inches, and fragile scree. In several locations, I found myself clinging to the loose rock above the trail, feet dislodging rocks on the edge, those rocks tumbling hundreds of feet down the nearly vertical face.

It was a dangerous situation, to say the least. And I hoped it would be over soon. But as I neared the next tower, I could see that my hopes were not going to pan out - because here, in a fold on the side of the mountain - the trail was gone. Literally washed away by the infrequent rain, a gap of maybe 7-feet between me and my next step, with a 50-foot drop in between.

Just across the gap, the trail continued - a dilapidated tram tower just waiting to be explored.

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But, I had to turn around.

The Salt Tram trail is now - in my opinion - no longer navigable as a hiking trail. Time has taken its toll on the trail, and to do it now safely - at least from the east end - requires climbing equipment in this section at a minimum.

With mixed emotions - given that my adrenaline was pumping and yet I was also bummed - I headed back towards @mrs.turbodb who was waiting a few hundred feet below. As I relayed the story to her, she was glad she'd stayed behind, and urged us to get going back to the truck before it got too dark for us to see.

And that was fine by me.

We arrived back at the truck shortly after sunset, but still with plenty of light to see where we were going, and made the wise decision to set up camp here, rather than head back to the Saline Valley Warm Springs where I'd planned to have us spend the night.

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Tired from a long day, a dinner of spicy tacos with guacamole hit the spot for both of us as - perched high above the floor - we looked out over Saline Valley and watched the chaos that was this popular place on a Friday night. Saline Valley Road, North Pass, and Steel Pass were repeatedly illuminated by the army of people making their way to the Warm Springs for the long weekend.

We were glad to be alone up here, away from it all, enjoying the best of what Death Valley has to offer.

Eventually we found ourselves ready for bed - the stars bright above us, and another great day in the books. Except that the day wasn't, quite, in the books. As we climbed up the ladder, I setup the camera for a series of long exposures - and it wouldn't be until later that we could really enjoy the end of this amazing day!

https://www.youtube.com/embed/HbrJXykW_T8​

And to imagine - the biggest highlights of the trip were still yet to come!

 

Great Pics, looking forward to the rest of the adventure. Anyone crazy enough to drive that old road, would have to be drunk or insane.

 

Loving the report! - You're hitting some amazing sections of DV, thanks for sharing!

 

"Yes, that's the stock bolt, original from 1999. It's a 14MM, vs. the 1/2" that aftermarket shocks generally use (my rears use 1/2"). It does lead to the inner sleeve of the misalignment being a little thinner, but in my conversations with ADS, this shouldn't happen, regardless. Tyler says it's very rare to have to replace the misalignment spacers."

Old news as I'm just now reading it. My buddies Sequoia has Fox on the front with the stock 14mm bolt and the mis-alignment spacer did the same thing. Unfortunately in his case he didn't catch it in time and it work thru the bolt damaged the arm mounting points. We didn't think anything of the 14mm vs 1/2" bolt size at the time when we ordered the replacement parts. We did point the finger at the thinner mis-alignment spacers causing all the problems. For the fix we cut off the stock shock tabs on the stock LCA and welded on thicker plate tabs with a 1/2" hole and changed the bolts and spacers to the 1/2". Works well and took that thinner spacer out of the equation.

 

Glad you are both enjoying! More fun to come

News isn't that old actually - thanks for weighing in!

I'm giving another set of the 14MM mis-alignment spacers a try; got them installed with new spherical bearings, and will have a write-up of that once the DV trip is over. Needless to say, I also put in new 14MM bolts (Toyota OEM), so hopefully there won't be any play, and everything will be peachy.

Oh, and Ben @m3bassman - I used Mike's @Digiratus caliplers, and I was missing about 1/16" diameter on the bolts, from wear.

 

Report is great as always, I really need to make it to DV.

FWIW, I go through spherical bearings yearly, but am still on my first set of misalignment spacers.

I'm sure the bolt played a role in it, but I also am guessing that if you had play in the bearing, it would greatly accelerate the wear in the spacers.

 

I know you're meticulous with your stuff but grease in those areas would help with friction and wear. I would also carry an extra set of the thinner spacers for the 14mm bolts just in case. They are not a common size that places carry.

 

This was how far the bolt was to disaster.

 

Thanks. Glad you're enjoying the trip. DV's a cool place for sure. All of the Mojave Desert is really. Can't wait to get back.

My plan was to do the bearings annually as well. I installed the ADS in Jan 2019, so I figured I was right on schedule. However, I clearly wasn't. I think that could be due to the bolts being pre-worn a bit - and to your comment, then pre-wearing the bearings. Then, once the bearings were worn, they accelerated the wear of the spacers and bolt. Actually, this is something Mike, @drr, and I discussed as well - the worn bearing, helping to wear everything else faster.

Anyway, I'll keep an eye on it this next year and see how it goes. Perhaps it's a 6 month thing for me.

Totally a lot. Way too much really. Good reminder for me to change them out more quickly when they start to squeak. Mine have been since ~August.

Yeah, I've got more spacers that are in the kit now. Grease is an interesting idea...but not sure this would be a good place for it. Seems like it might attract dirt and then just wear everything faster.

Yikes!

 

Not sure on grease, but put anti-seize on everything.

Bearing to rod end.
Spacers to bearing.
Bolt to spacers.

 

To Thunderbirds and Beyond - In Search of Overlooks #3

The night air was warm - probably 15°F warmer than it'd been in Eureka Valley - as the stars spun in the clear sky above. It was a great night, tucked away in our quiet, secluded corner of Saline Valley.

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Once again having gone to bed early, it was no trouble getting up a little before sunrise. I wasn't sure we'd really get anything with cloudless skies and our position relative to the Inyo Mountains and Panamint Ranges. And in the end, there wasn't much except a bit of color in the sky, but even that was extremely pleasant as I sat overlooking the valley in a short-sleeve shirt, reading <a class="atalnk" title="The Athena Project: A Thriller (Scot Harvath #10)" href="https://adventuretaco.com/go/the-athena-project-a-thriller-scot-harvath-10/" rel="nofollow">The Athena Project</a> on my Kindle.

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We had another full day in front of us, our slower-paced plan now a distant memory. A couple more hikes, exploration of a silver mine (that was an ad-hoc addition to the trip), and a hunt for petroglyphs hidden somewhere in Saline Valley before heading off in search of another great overlook where we could spend the night.

And here - once again - I should mention that I'll be doing this out-of-order and with a bit of obfuscation and/or redaction of certain places. If you know where they are, please do your best to keep them special as well!

With the sun streaking higher in the sky, @mrs.turbodb was soon out of the tent as well, and as got to prepping breakfast, I poked around a bit in the ruins of the dilapidated Salt Tram where we'd set up camp. There I found the usual suspects - old wood, nails, brackets, and cabling - but also a few unique items as well. The coolest - in my opinion - was some turquoise glass, which reminded me of the purple glass we'd found at the Champion Mine in Colorado.

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Cereal - and some of the best store-bought blueberries I've ever eaten - consumed, we packed up the kitchen and tent and got on our way, heading back down toward Saline Valley Road from our camp at the base of the Inyos.

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Now, one of the treasures of Saline Valley are the *************************** petroglyphs. Located well off the beaten path, one has to find the right spot to park, and hike for a couple miles across the desert in the right direction in order to even hope to find them.

I'd discovered them - or hints about them - in several places during my research of Death Valley, and before we left on the trip, I was pretty sure I'd figured out their location. We wouldn't know for sure until we got there however, and so after making our way to a point I'd marked on the map, we parked the truck and set out on foot.

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A hike like this is always a bit of a gamble - I mean, you never really know if it'll be a success or not until you're fully committed - so it's always nice to look for little things to enjoy along the way... just in case there's no pot of gold at the end. Today, the little things were easy to enjoy. Somehow - I have no idea how - I happened to look down at the ground at just the right time to see a large chip of obsidian.

I've never seen obsidian here before, but I took it as a good sign that we were headed in the right direction for Native American art, and continued on.

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The flora in Saline Valley - well, all of Death Valley really - is always amazing. With a name like Death Valley - and the desert climate to go along with it - I'm always struck by the color and beauty of the plant life. Along the "trail," we found numerous cacti - the red cotton-top cactus and chollos, especially vibrant.

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Eventually, a couple miles into our trek, we reached the edge of the valley and the mouth of the canyon that we hoped would contain our treasure. As the walls rose up around us, we pressed on.

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Now was the moment of truth - sort of. A better analogy would probably be a slow motion highlight reel - or train wreck - depending on the outcome... because even if we'd found the right canyon, it was still a rather sizable place, and locating the carvings in the rock wasn't necessarily going to be an easy task.

Making our way back and forth across the wash, we inspected the walls as we headed deeper into the canyon. Eventually, we ran into the first panel, and we knew we'd found the right place!

I present to you - lady holes.

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It's not known exactly what these figures represent, but it is purported that this was perhaps a fertility site, and these figures represent pregnant women - large bellies and oversize belly buttons, depicted on the rocks. Much like the yoni that we found further south near the Blue Sun Cave.

Now excited that we were in the right area, we pushed on further - our goal was to find a series of birds known as either Thunderbirds or Condors.

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It wasn't long - at least relatively - before we found the next panel. This one had more variety than the first, various shapes and several different creatures depicted.

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It was almost as though this second panel was a "scratch panel" of sorts - the carvings here seemingly scraped over in various places as though the artist had been practicing.

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There was even one condor, its speckled chest a reasonable representation of how sunlight can sparkle off the condor’s feathers. I knew from photos though, that this was not the condor we were after!

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Our heads now on swivels, we headed deeper into the canyon. Then, to our left, I spotted what seemed to be the perfect place for another panel. Elevated above the wash, with a 10-foot wide flat area in front of it, we found not only the panel we'd been after, but also the remnants of an old shelter.

This was clearly the masterpiece. The figures here were more refined, the carving in the wall deliberate and well preserved.

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And here, we found the condors we'd been looking for. They were nothing short of amazing, especially given the tools and medium used to create them.

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Having found what we were after, we knew we could happily spend the rest of the day in the canyon if we just kept wandering up. At the same time, we knew there was a lot more on the docket for the day, and so after one more panel, we decided to head back across the desert in search of our 4-wheeled transportation.

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If the *************************** petroglyphs are one of the lesser known attractions of Death Valley, something I think many more are familiar with are the plethora of mines found throughout - and around - the park. One that we hadn't planned on visiting but decided warranted a look as we read about it in Hiking Western Death Valley, was the Big Silver Mine. Nestled into the base of the Inyo mountains, it produced over 7,600 ounces of silver via five separate mine shafts that were sunk into the mountain - all of them accessing isolated segments of what was once a single quartz vein before being broken by numerous faults and dikes over the years. Today, it's projected that vein still contains over 90,000 pounds - or nearly $22 million dollars - of silver!

As we reached the end of the road - the location of the Big Silver Mine camp - there wasn't much left. A stacked-rock structure built at the base of the hillside and a large, rusty, old camp stove that we partially reassembled (the back had previously fallen off) were really the only things worth checking out.

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But that wasn't why we were here - not really. We were here for the mines. I mean, what if we found a million bucks of silver as we explored the hillside? I'm sure the truck could handle the additional 4,100 lbs and cart it off!

The first mine shaft was easy to find. Clearly a road had been built to this shaft in the past, and a sign along the way suggested exactly who'd done it...and when.

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Completely open, with no warning signs or anything, this must be either a relatively low-traffic site, or one that's much more stable than others found throughout the park. And, while it was clear that we weren't the first to investigate this area, we mostly stuck by the mantra, "Stay out, stay alive" - only entering a few feet in order to capture the ambiance.

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Having failed to strike it rich at this first mine, our curiosity rather than silver fever propelled us forward. The trail - much like the Salt Tram trail - quickly became more of a path, more suitable for hooved animals than human travel. This, it turns out, is a good thing, the narrow trails - assuming no major erosion wipes them out - provide reasonably good footing without visually scaring the land.

Up we went, the switchbacks helping us ascend over 500 feet in less than half a mile.

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You see the trail there, don't you? No? C'mon, it's right there. ​

As we ascended, I forget exactly how many of the mine shafts we found, but it was probably three or four - though we thought we'd gotten to the end. Unfortunately, upon returning, we learned that the fifth (and last) shaft sported an orange wheelbarrow, which we did not see.

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Oh look, a mylar balloon. One of our few exceptions to "Take only pictures."​

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Wood pieces jammed into the ceiling. #ExtraSafe​

Regardless, it was fun climbing around the Big Silver Mine site, and as we headed back down to the truck, we had one more bit of excitement in store for the day. In keeping with our theme for the trip, it was yet another beautiful overlook - and one where we planned to spend the night.

First though, we had to make the short trek back to Saline Valley Road. As two easily distracted explorers, even short distances are never easy - and this time was no exception. First, there was this perfectly good Bridgestone tire that looked a little rough around the edges, but surely would have gotten us where we needed to go.

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And then, there were burros. Yeah, I know they're generally more of a pest in this area - and I've sworn more than a few times when they've woken me up with their confounded bleating during the night - but that never seems to us from getting excited whenever we see them.

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Death Valley's mascot?​

Eventually however, we did make it to Saline Valley road, the Inyos rising majestically behind us - towering 10,000 feet above the valley floor.

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In crappy condition as always, the washboard corrugations made travel a royal pain - and the only way we could bear it was to keep the speeds up around 45mph. Thank goodness for the ADS suspension (front|rear) - I'm sure it got a good workout on this trip.

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Soon enough, we found ourselves high in *************************************** the Inyo Mountains. This was a spot that I'd fallen in love with as soon as I'd seen a a trip report from @DVexile, and I'm happy to say that it didn't disappoint.

We arrived just as the sun was setting, a purple hue cast over and area we'd spent the last two days exploring.

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This, our last night before a two-day trip home, we took our time - enjoying the light as it played across the landscape, taking in familiar sights from a new perspective.

Not that it was late by any stretch. With sunset at 4:36pm and last light at a mere 33 minutes later, even as we set up camp and started cooking dinner, we knew we'd be eating well before we'd usually even discussed what we would be having for dinner at home!

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No, we didn't have spam sandwiches; we had ramen! Actually, it was quite tasty - and the warmth was a nice contrast to the cool air at our higher elevation.

With dinner done and another packed day in the books, we climbed into bed to cozy up under the comforter, another clear night with bright stars and a nearly full moon revealing itself above.

Though it was our last night, we had plenty in store for the next day before we had to turn the truck north - elements of which each of us were looking forward to as we drifted off to sleep.

 

Yep, Burro's are "wild" donkeys basically. Though, in DV, they aren't always so wild, hahaha

 

Well done.
I've hiked/climbed/scrambled Eureka Dunes twice but driven by several more. It is a magical place. I'm glad you got to experience the "singing dunes" there. The two times I did hike them they didn't sing for me. One of my early off-road trips was specifically to experience "dunes" and I went to Kelso in the Mojave Natl. Preserve. Those did sing for me and I was dumbfounded about it. Searching it out after was informative.

Speaking of hikes, I now need to get out and sign that San Lucas register too. Then there is the Salt Tram. A couple of my friends have hiked from the top and the bottom to search out the secrets held by the remaining tram structures. Their stories don't allow for anything but more wanderlust.

 

Saline Warm Springs & Cerro Gordo: Once is Enough - In Search of Overlooks #4

Unlike most nights, where the temps seem to drop to their lowest point just before sunrise, our night high in *************************************** the Inyo Mountains turned out to be just the opposite. At some point, I was so warm that I even removed one of the comforters in order to maintain a reasonably-cozy-and-not-all-sweaty body temp. Even @mrs.turbodb commented on it in the morning, as we enjoyed our breakfast.

That of course was after I'd gotten out of bed in order to capture what might have been an amazing sunrise. See, as we'd arrived the previous evening, one of the things we'd noticed was that there was quite a bit of high-level smoke to our west. With a westerly wind, I figured we'd either reap the benefits of that smoke - with some spectacular color - or we'd end up with nothing more than a hazy mess. If the end, I think we got a bit of both.

The light on the horizon started oranger than we'd seen previous mornings - likely because this was the first time we had enough elevation to see closer to the horizon. The bright orange lasted only minutes, the smoke becoming more hazy as the sun neared the horizon.

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Breakfast with a view.​

I probably scurried around camp - literally jogging from spot to spot in order to try and capture the grandeur - for a good 90 minutes before finally deciding that there was really no way I was going to be able to be in all places at once, and I'd just have to find my way back in the future so I could spend a few more days here. With @mrs.turbodb now out of bed and breakfast behind us, it was time to get on with our day. We only had about half the day to spend here in the wilderness - the other half to be spent making our way north towards home.

Luckily for us, our first stop was reasonably nearby - the *************** Mine. This was a historic copper mine, responsible for more than two thirds of all the copper to come out of Saline Valley. Mined as an open cut, the most striking thing about this mine to me was the structure of the quartz crystals that are everywhere on the site. More than trillions of little crystals are imperceptible at first, and only on closer inspection does one notice the amazing geology.

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As much as we'd have loved to stay to take in the views, we knew that there were other places to spend time before we hit the highway, and we pulled ourselves away towards our next destination. It's here that I'd be remiss however, if I failed to mention another really exciting experience that we'd had the last several days. In fact, it was one that I wasn't sure would be in the cards this time due to the unfortunate crash of a Navy F-18 at Father Crowley Point back in July. But - and I don't know if this has always been the Star Wars route, or if it's a new route for the planes - our time in Saline Valley was peppered with low-level fly-bys, several of the jets performing rolls as they passed overhead.

Could they see us - a lone vehicle with a dust trail as we drove our way around? - perhaps. But we could definitely see - and hear - them!

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Surely, all of the folks at the Saline Valley Warm Springs enjoyed it as well. That place was hopping as we drove by - something that I think surprised @mrs.turbodb a little bit, given it's remoteness - and while we'd planned to stay there one night, in the end we were much happier with our private little spot by the Salt Tram - away from the chaotic parties that were surely raging below. A few minutes exploring the upper springs, and a quick stop at the bat sign, were the only time we allotted to what is - by far - the most popular place in Saline Valley.

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Our next couple of mines were not quite on our way to the final destination of our trip - the mining ghost town of Cerro Gordo - but they were close enough. The ********* Mine - which worked primarily silver - and **************** Mine - which pulled garnets and several other semi-precious stones - were both located in the ************ near Lee Flat. We visited the silver mine first, working out way up to a small opening in the hillside. Don't let this opening fool you - if pressed, I'd say it was much smaller than the original opening, erosion of the surrounding area slowly working to cover this entrance. A few feet inside the mountain, both the the shaft height and width increased dramatically, large enough for several miners to work comfortably side by side.

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We were in no way going inside this mine however - the loose dirt and rock, indicators to us that we'd be safer out here in the open! As it turns out, this mine was reasonably near another attraction, and there were a few other explorers already set up there when we were at the ********* Mine, so we didn't hang out here long.

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Instead, we headed over to the nearby **************** garnet mine to see if we could find what we had heard was a profusion of garnet strewn about on the ground. This was especially interesting to @mrs.turbodb who'd also wanted to search for garnets on our trip to Indian Hot Springs in Idaho earlier in the year. There, we hadn't had time to do much poking around, but this time we figured it would be significantly easier, and so - why not?

Almost immediately, we discovered something else. In addition to garnets, this mine was apparently rich - at least, as far as we could tell - with turquoise. In fact, while we searched several tailings piles for garnets and never found any, there was no shortage of the bluish-green gem embedded in the surrounding rock. It quite literally, littered the ground!

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Here too there were mine shafts - the largest of which seemed to be bored into reasonably solid rock. That fact, and my hope that perhaps we'd find a garnet inside, propelled not only me - but also @mrs.turbodb - forward twenty feet or so into the shaft.

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...which is when we noticed this little guy on the ceiling. Now, for anyone familiar with my stories - you may recall that it was only a couple months ago that I found a bat under my mattress when I was putting away the tent one morning. The discovery was enough to send @mrs.turbodb back the way she'd come, and I spent a few minutes trying to get a photo before making my way out as well. Garnet-less! (Which was just fine - it's not like they'd be coming home with us anyway, though it would have been nice to take home a picture.)

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With that, our exploration of the mine was complete - at least for this trip - and we climbed back in the truck and pointed ourselves west; our destination was Cerro Gordo. Located near the southern crest of the Inyo Mountains, this mining town founded by Mexicans in 1863 was unlike many in the Death Valley area. Where most mines were all work and no pay - disappointing generations of miners - Cerro Gordo was not only successful - it was the most successful. In fact, Hiking Western Death Valley retells a story of just how much silver was pulled out of this area:

As we made our way toward this historic town, Cerro Gordo peak rose in front of us - a striking view in the morning sun.

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The drive to Cerro Gordo was a fun one. While not at all difficult or challenging, it was rougher - in a good way - than most of the other roads we'd been on, providing some terrain interest as we climbed to the saddle at 8,000-feet. And then, as we crested the saddle - even before we could see the town itself - we got our first peak at Owens Valley, and the Sierras rising up out of the other side.

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We were mere feet from the town at this point, and as rounded the corner, it all opened up in front of us. Nestled into the folds of the mountain, Cerro Gordo was smaller than I'd envisioned. I can't pinpoint why, but for some reason I'd envisioned it with several checkerboard streets - a few blocks of buildings at least. Instead, there were a handful of very well maintained structures, and of course the entire place was surrounded by mining remnants in various states of disrepair.

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As we stood looking around, Robert - the caretaker for the last 30+ years - rolled up on his ATV and we all introduced ourselves. Let me tell you this - the highlight of our time in Cerro Gordo was the 15 minutes that we spent talking there in the center of town. Robert was full of stories - both past and present - and his delivery of those stories, and obvious love for the town were awesome. I encourage anyone who visits to respectfully introduce themselves - assuming he's got the time to chat - and to ask him a little bit about the history of the place, and what notable things he experienced on the previous weekend!

One of the things I inquired about was whether he knew what the new owners had in store for the town. See, Cerro Gordo was sold in July 2018 to a group of investors, and many interested in the history of the Death Valley area have been wondering what's going to come of this historic ghost town. This got Robert on a roll, as he related to us how "the kids" who acquired the town were "city slickers who don't understand how things work around here." Of course, I'm sure he's right, and to me, the idea of opening up a bed and breakfast, along with a night-time saloon sounds a bit crazy - I mean, it'd be neat, but seems too far away from everything to be a smashing success. Hey, at least they only paid $1.4- to $1.7-millon for the place.

At any rate, we eventually parted ways with Robert - he going off to continue stockpiling the 5 cords of wood he'd need to heat his cabin for the winter, us to snap a few final photos and then leave him in peace as we headed west - down out of the Inyo's and into Owens Valley.

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It was at this point that I figured we were pretty much done with the highlights of the town, but Cerro Gordo had one more surprise in store as we rolled out of town - the view of the Owens Valley!

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We enjoyed the view for the entire 20 minute trip out of the mountains, the Sierras looming larger and larger as our elevation dropped, and our distance neared. Along the way, we passed numerous ruins of mining equipment - relics of bygone days, perhaps something to explore on a future trip to the region. And then, in front of us - pavement. It was the first we'd seen in four days, and it was with mixed emotions that we pulled out the tools to air up our tires.

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Ten minutes later, we accelerated onto the pavement of CA-136 on our way to US-395 which would take us much of the way home. We didn't make it 15 miles before we were stopped again - this time in the middle of the road. There, in front of us was Mt. Whitney. At 14,505 feet tall, it's the tallest peak in California, and a stark contrast to the lowest point - Badwater Basin, Death Valley (at 282 feet below sea level). More amazing is that the two are less than 90 miles apart as the crow flies!

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Magnificent.​

As we got underway again - this time for good - @mrs.turbodb and I marveled at the just how fun this trip had been. Not all of it had gone to plan, but by in large we'd seen everything that we'd hoped to see - and more. It had, as always, been a bit more packed than it might have been if we lived closer - but still, we were both left wanting more. We would be back for sure.

And hopefully when we were, the gas prices would be a little cheaper. I mean sheesh, aren't they supposed to go down in the winter months?!

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The rest of the trip home was uneventful - which is a really good thing to say about a 1,000 mile, 20-ish hour drive! We made a few stops here and there, none of them worth talking about save two - Erick Schatt's Bakery in Bishop (which made @mrs.turbodb very happy), and Mono Lake. Exiting Death Valley to the west, we took a different route home than we've taken on all our previous trips, and as we passed this historic lake, we couldn't help but jump out to take a look at the Tufa formations protruding from the water's surface.

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It was yet another highlight to an already great trip. More than that, it was another place to add to our ever-growing bucket list of places to go explore!