AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

This choice has always been one of the dilemmas when choosing a new body. This time around, Canon has changed the mount. Fortunately, they've also released adapters. I have an M6 which uses a different mount than the R5 I've had my eye on (and just received today). I have too many EF lenses to walk away and I think the R5 will be good for a long, long time.

Good to hear. I am afraid of the 47MB size. There'll be no spray and pray for me

 

Finally just caught up on all your journeys. Amazing once again! And I must say, I feel like your compositions in your photos is getting so good! And wow, that new camera is just unreal in terms of quality.

 

Area 51 - Mid-Winter #2

Things don't always go as expected, and sometimes that is a good thing. It sure was this morning as I woke up and climbed down out of the tent to a dry day - none of the predicted snow or rain having materialized during the night!

Silly Mt. Irish weather station, you said it would snow.​

There were - obviously - plenty of clouds in the sky at this point however, so we probably just lucked out - or at least @mrs.turbodb did, since she was still warm in bed! I on the other hand was freezing my tushy off. With no sunrise photo possibility, I decided to wander into the hills in search of more petroglyphs for an hour or so, hoping that the brisk breeze would blow the clouds away - I mean, a guy can hope, right?

Our lucky charm was still asleep in the tent as the brisk breeze started to blow the clouds away!​

@mrs.turbodb got up to what was turning into a beautiful morning and as we ate breakfast, I proposed what would be the first of many changes to our plans for the day: instead of heading east - back out the way we'd come into the Mt. Irish area - what if we headed west, over the pass? You see, we were ultimately headed that direction anyway, since we wanted to check out the Extraterrestrial Highway, and going over the pass would cut some 30 miles off of our trip... if it went through.

I'd be remiss if I didn't note here that I'd looked at this prior to our departure and had run into two issues: first, no maps showed the road going through. Second, the pass was over 7,200', and, well, it was the middle of winter.

I didn't mention any of that to @mrs.turbodb, and so of course we made the decision to give it a shot, pointing the truck west and up towards the summit of Mt. Irish.

Looks passable from here.​

I have to say that the road at this point was in great condition - graded and well maintained, perhaps in preparation for winter. At any rate, the sun was shining and we both really enjoyed the scenery as we made our way through a pinyon pine forest to the top of the ridge. Along the way, only a few small patches of snow presented themselves, our confidence growing that we might actually make it.

Everything changed at the ridgeline, however as the road flipped from southern- to northern-facing slopes. Immediately the temperatures dropped and the entire road was covered in 6 inches of crunchy ice and snow. The snow wasn't that bothersome - the Tacoma can easily navigate 6 inches of that, but the ice on some of the off-camber sections of trail had me a bit on edge. We decided to proceed with caution.

Let's not slide off the edge, OK?​

At some point, it became clear in my mind that we were committed - the ice making it possible to travel downhill, but very difficult to retrace our steps should we come upon the end of the road. Like the through-ness of the road, I kept that to myself. And then, about a third of the way down the west side, we stumbled upon an old log cabin.

Except for the expertly crafted skeleton, it wasn't in great shape but I'm sure it's kept more than one winter adventurer warm(er) through a cold night.​

Look at that dovetail joinery. On round logs. No wonder this thing is still standing.​

A few minutes at the cabin - as cool as it was to find, there wasn't much to see - and we were back on our way, elevation dropping quickly now and snow starting to thin out. Things were looking good as long as the road connected with something here on the other side.

The snowy Tempiute Range in the distance.​

I think @mrs.turbodb's anxiety dropped when we were out of the snow, but mine only did when it became apparent that we were going to be able to connect with NV-375 - the Extraterrestrial Highway - and not have to backtrack the way we'd come.

We'd made it. Now, onward to aliens! ​

The Extraterrestrial Highway was named in 1996 by the state of Nevada in conjunction with the release of the movie Independence Day, hoping to draw tourists to what is literally the middle of nowhere. Stretching between the small town of Rachel and US-93, it is 98 miles long and runs reasonably close to an alien landmark that many more have heard of - a secret military base known as Area 51. We'd end up driving the entire length without seeing any little green creatures, but that's not to say you won't if you make the same journey. I hear they usually only abduct the most intelligent beings for research purposes, so we weren't in any real danger.

So wait, the F-117 is a UFO?​

Our first stop was on the western end of the highway at the cunningly named Little A'le'inn. Given the situation with Covid-19 and our desire not to infect anyone on their way to a remote planet, we didn't go in - after all, we had no idea if the aliens would be wearing masks.

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From the Little A'le'inn in Rachel, we drove down a long lonely road known only as "Back Gate Road." Nearly 12 miles in length, the first 11 of those miles are dirt, while the final mile is paved. There is no cell coverage here. At all. And that's because it is here that one finds themselves at the rear entrance of Area 51.

I think this is close enough.​

We rolled up on the gate slowly and stopped a few hundred feet from the entrance - no need to test the readiness of the Men in Black who surely sit behind the mirrored glass with Neuralyzers, ready to erase the memories of anyone who stumbles upon the secrets held within. I know they didn't use one on me because I distinctly remember the pain of slamming my finger in the door as I got out of the truck.

Probably going to lose that nail.​

There's not much to do at Area 51, it seems, and so with a throbbing finger and the knowledge that we'd been there, we turned around and headed back the way we'd come - our eyes peeled for any low-flying aircraft, our hopes high that we'd get another barrel roll.

While the name of the Extraterrestrial Highway is perhaps a little foofy, for anyone who is a fan of high desert or basin and range landscapes, it is an amazingly beautiful drive. Now travelling east, we somehow managed a headwind again, the wind having shifted 90 degrees from its northerly gusting the night before, just to make us feel special.

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We weren't in any rush at this point - though that wouldn't be the case for long. Our early start meant that it was still well before noon when we got back to Crystal Springs and the intersection of the Extraterrestrial Highway and US-93. With only 12 miles between us and the town of Alamo to the south - where we needed to be at 1:00pm so @mrs.turbodb could teach kids how to make these super-fancy Valentines Day cards for the local children's hospital - we decided to check out some local rock art and have lunch to pass the time.

But first, we had to check out the Alien Research Center.

This was the extent of our visit.​

It turns out that the most interesting thing we found at the Alien Research Center was - by far - a roadrunner in the parking lot. Keen to put my new camera and its reportedly fast autofocus through its paces, I snapped a few dozen photos of this little guy as he mostly tried to avoid me.

Standing. Pretty normal.​

Sitting. Wait, roadrunners sit?​

Flying. Hang on, roadrunners fly?​

Roadrunners are fast little buggers, and before long he'd scurried under a few fences and meep-meeped his way far enough out into a field that I gave up the chase and headed back to the truck so we too could continue on. See, as was becoming a theme for the day, we changed our plans again and headed a few miles east to Crystal Wash - the site of even more rock art here in the Basin and Range National Monument.

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The glyphs here were definitely not as spectacular as those we'd seen at Mt. Irish or even the White River Narrows the day before, but we still enjoyed our stroll through the wash, discovering the mysterious clues left by those hundreds of years before.

A line in the sand is so temporal. When you're really serious, make a line in the rock.​

Jazz-hands man.​

Bighorn procession.​

A metate (grinding slick).​

Sun glyphs, and an arrow (?).​

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This series of glyphs facing the sky reminded me of ******** in the Volcanic Tablelands. Much more weathered here, however.​

Chips from tool creation.​

It turned out that our curiosity and eagerness to explore led to a bit of a panic when we realized it was only 17 minutes until @mrs.turbodb needed to be in Alamo, and we hustled back to the Tacoma and I pushed the skinny pedal quite a bit more than usual to cover the 14 miles between us and a spot where she could get cell service and setup her laptop for the demonstration. Luckily, we made it in the nick of time, and I even managed to find a 120V receptacle that she could use to ensure uninterrupted power for the duration of her call.

This was most definitely a lucky day for me. Well, except for the finger thing.

Not wanting to waste a bunch of time just sitting around Alamo - though I'm sure it's a nice town - I opted to wander off into the hills for a couple hours. My goal - predictably as I am a creature of habit - was to make my way to a disjunct segment of Basin and Range National Monument to find the Shooting Gallery petroglyphs.

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Situated on the east flank of Badger Mountain, the Shooting Gallery is an archaeological district rich in rock art, hunting sites, and settlements. Used for over 6000 years, this area was most heavily frequented some 3000 years ago, a living here requiring deep knowledge of the environment's plant and animal resources. The largest concentrations of rock art are clustered into three groupings - each grouping several acres in size - though there are smaller sites found throughout the area. For me, one of the draws of this place, was that nothing here is marked and there are no trails - I would be wandering much like the ancient artists, my skills of discovery put to the test as I searched for decorated surfaces.

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Giving myself about an hour, I headed for the most distant grouping and soon found myself wandering through what had clearly been a series of shelters, and a high concentration of petroglyphs. I'm sure these figures have great symbolism to those that created them, but sometimes I wonder if some of the other members of the group were like "another sheep? C'mon man."

Protection from sun, but not much else.​

A few bighorn sheep.​

Seven sheep.​

OMG sheep.​

You guessed it, more sheep.​

Bighorn sheep weren't the only thing, obviously, and as I climbed my way from boulder to boulder, squeezing between cactus and scratching my way through brush, I found myself better able to predict where I'd find something amazing. This was an extremely cool experience - one where I was almost connecting with something deep inside, long forgotten.

People holding hands motif.​

Stay out of the flash floods, kids.​

Many places have a newspaper rock. Perhaps this is the newspaper rock of the Shooting Gallery.​

I was very excited when I found this deer with a starburst rack.​

A mountain lion, apparently.​

This set of concentric circles was a special discovery - the application of red pigment (pictograph) within the chiseled rings (petroglyph), a relatively rare find.​

I found you again, Pahranagat Man.​

After about an hour, the Shooting Gallery proved to be - so far at least - my favorite stop of the trip. I probably could have spent another couple days climbing around in the granite boulders of this little valley, smiles and celebratory whoops escaping my face as I discovered more of the treasures contained in the area. However, I had a @mrs.turbodb to pick up, and we had decisions to make about the remainder of our day!

As I headed back to the truck - now cognizant that I'd been away for nearly two hours - I noticed that somehow I had cell reception and quickly relayed my ETA to @mrs.turbodb. Luckily she seemed content to hang out for another 45 minutes as I made my way back, and before long I was climbing out of the Shooting Gallery and back towards Alamo.

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After narrowly avoiding getting pulled over by the local police for speeding through town - a grace not afforded to the SUV that came barreling up behind me - I found @mrs.turbodb right where I left her and we decided that rather than stop a few miles away at the Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge for the night, we'd continue two hours further south - to Las Vegas - so that we'd be closer to our first destination in the morning. We had no idea where we'd camp, but figured that we'd probably be able to find something, and that by showing up at night, we'd be able to scout out the best place to gain access to a trailhead that has become increasingly difficult to access as more and more housing has gone up in the area.

Well, it turns out that the something we found was on the periphery of one of the new developments, the Tacoma conspicuously hidden in plain sight with a bunch of construction vehicles. Neither of us loved it, but it seemed safe enough, and I figured that the worst that could happen was that someone would report us and we'd be asked to leave.

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It was 5:45am the next morning when three trucks rolled up and pointed their headlights at our tent - "What the f*@# is going on there?" - the first thing we heard as they climbed out to take a look... Needless to say, that got the adrenaline going a little bit as I quickly pulled on my clothes.

But now I'm starting into another story, aren't I?

 

Did the road route to the flying saucers. Even stopped to have a look around at the Little A'leI'nn. Friend bought some souvenirs that came out to $6.66...

 

I'll be interested to see if you end up with RF glass rather than the adapter and your existing EF. I must say, the RF stuff is nice...

As for the 47MB... well, there are pros and cons to that. I'm getting great photos, but still not sure I made the right call there. Tough tradeoff.

Thanks so much, glad you're enjoying as time permits! I'm just about to post one of my favorite days EVER, so .

LOL. There's not much out that way, but I've got a lead on a place where there's lots of low-level flying, so I'll be headed out there again!

 

Multi-Colored Pictographs and a Bowl of Fire - Mid-Winter #3

I think we left off with our adrenaline pumping and three trucks parked right outside our tent, one of the occupants having just said, "What the f*@# is going on here?"

Climbing down out of the tent, I walked over to the guys - all still clustered around their vehicles - to say good morning and ask if they were, as I suspected, workers on this particular construction site. It being a Saturday morning before 6:00am, I hadn't expected to see any workers, but I guess when houses are selling like hotcakes, every minute you're not building new ones is money down the drain.

It turns out that they were in fact workers at the site, and that - to me - was a blessing in disguise. I mean, sure, it was a little weird and perhaps a little embarrassing to be caught parked and sleeping in amongst their equipment, but it also meant that I could ask some locals for a bit of help in accessing a trailhead that is now notoriously hard to find given all the new development.

My satellite imagery suggested that an old BLM road started near our current position, and when I asked the guys if it was OK to drive past the construction signs to access it, the affirmative response I got was enthusiastic. "It's super cool up there, go have a great time, man! The construction company put up all these Private Road signs because they don't want people to get in the way of the heavy equipment, but you're more than welcome to go up there exploring."

And with that, we cut four hours and eight miles of tedious alluvial fan hiking out of our day. Awesome.

By now, @mrs.turbodb was out of the tent and I quickly got it put away, thanking the guys for the info as we pulled onto a short connector to the road that would take us to the edge of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

Blue skies and expansive views in front of us.​

The sun glowing down on the Las Vegas strip behind.​

We didn't make it far before we found a crippled Ford just out of the middle of the road. Likely bombing around at night, this guy had some bad luck when the uniball in his upper control arm failed, and his spindle started crashing around in the wheel well. Really, he was probably lucky that more damage wasn't done.

The Tacoma looks so tiny next to a full-size F150.​

And with this photo, I stoke the internet fire of uniball vs. ball joint. I'm sure glad I went with ball joints. ​

There wasn't much we could do to help without the owner around, so we continued on our way, remarking time and again how lucky our choice of camp site had been. Not only did it cut down on the length of our trek, but it also meant that we were making tons of progress way earlier than if we'd camped where I'd planned - some two hours away!

In there, magic awaits.​

A muddy hill, eroding into its own miniature badlands.​

Red Rock Canyon - appropriately named.​

Several miles later, we reached the end of the road and the border of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. Our elevation had increased by nearly 1,200 feet, it was 7:03am in the morning, and we'd done it all in just under 15 minutes. Time for a well earned breakfast!

I guess now would be a good time to fill everyone in on what we were doing here in the first place. You see, I'd gotten wind from various bits of research that this particular canyon - ********** Canyon - contained a few panels of multi-colored pictographs. Pictographs are - by their very nature of being pigment on rock - more fragile and rare than petroglyphs, and usually when we're lucky enough to discover some, they are a monochromatic - usually using red or black pigment. Needless to say, I was excited.

I was also a little worried. You see, these glyphs are well-known enough that I could find photos of them online, as well as a general location in the La Madre Mountains, but like several other reasonably unique sites, specific locations within the larger region were undiscoverable. What if we'd come all this way and didn't find them?

As always though, the hunt is a big part of the fun, so we set off - our spirits high, our fingers crossed, and the sun at our backs. Oh, and our heads were on swivels. It didn't take long for us to make our first discovery!

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A couple of enormous panels high up on a red sandstone wall boasted a series of geometric shapes and lots and lots of dots. Petroglyphs rather than pictographs, we were still plenty excited - it's always nice to get an early win in a hunt like this! Unsure if we'd find more in the area, we spent a good amount of time climbing around these panels - careful where we tred so as to not step on any rock art - but found only one small panel containing a hand and a couple other glyphs.

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If our spirits were high when we'd set off, they were through the roof at this point as we continued up the wash. The geology here, too, was fantastic, and we found ourselves stopping to admire it nearly as much we did for the rock art that was our ultimate objective.

Pinched - in several places - yellow sandstone. How does this happen?​

View of the main canyon from a tank up a short side canyon.​

Light. And dark.​

Also along the way, we discovered panel after panel of petroglyphs. So close to Las Vegas, these were hidden in plain sight and I hope that anyone lucky enough to visit understands the responsibility that comes with the knowledge of their location.

Here are a few of my favorite panels:

Man with shield.​

High panel.​

Familiar patterns.​

Time is the enemy - portions of sandstone are slowly eroding away.​

Each of these panels were high on the walls surrounding the canyon, and it was fun to work out how the artists had reached the narrow ledges that enabled their work in the first place. After climbing to a few of the panels for a closer look, we realized that this work was meant to be viewed from the wash - our new perspective just a few feet away, making them almost indecipherable!

We resumed wandering, wondering how long it would be until we stumbled upon the panel we were really after. The panel that was painted rather than carved. The panel that we may never find.

Except that we did!

Oh, the colors.​

It's hard to describe how colorful these pictographs really were. The saturation - after all these years - was astonishing. And the quantity - there were so many. Stretching over a series of panels that must have been 60 feet long, there were several clusters of familiar geometric shapes and figures. Quite obviously, a single group of people created both the petroglyphs we'd seen already as well as these paintings.

Multi-dimensional panel.​

Wolverine man.​

Human or reptile? Perhaps proof of early lizard people ​

Polychromatic zigs.​

Brilliant red.​

I just couldn't get enough of this panel.​

I don't know that I've ever seen yellow in pictographs before.​

Sufficed to say, we were both quite happy to have found this special place, and we briefly considered turning back at this point since we'd reached our objective. Luckily, cooler minds prevailed, and we continued up the wash - the namesake outcropping highlighted as the sun broke through the gathering clouds.

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As we neared this outcropping of color, I thought it'd be super cool for @mrs.turbodb to straddle the yellow-brown seam, and she obliged by climbing up the steeper-than-it-looked face to find a reasonably comfortable perch, high above.

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We didn't find any additional petroglyphs on this formation, but we did find views nearly as exciting - the dark canyon walls, a stark contrast to the brilliant colors at the bottom of the wash.

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Eventually though, as the clouds continued to gather and the winds picked up dramatically, we looked back from whence we came and decided that we'd better get a move on. We had a couple more places we wanted to explore before calling it a day, and though I should have realized there was no real chance of beating the weather, I was hoping catch them both under sunny skies, rather than clouds.

Our walk down the wash reminded us just how close this place was to way too many people.​

It was 10:45am as we headed back to the Tacoma, and we'd spend the next 90 minutes or so navigating our way through Las Vegas traffic as we worked our way east towards the Muddy Mountain Wilderness. Our navigation initially routed us along some sort of toll road, but with a bit of finagling, we were able to determine that Lake Mead Blvd would get us where we wanted to go just as quickly and without an extra payment. Well, except for needing a pass to get into Lake Mead National Recreation Area - easily accomplished with our America the Beautiful Pass.

Just inside the entrance station, views.​

We were starting to get a little hungry as we traded smooth pavement on Northshore Rd. (NV-167) for the much rougher Anniversary Mine Rd. For the first time on the trip, we took a moment to air down.

Not rougher, yet.​

Well, that's a bit of drama for you.​

Our ultimate destination on this leg of the trip was a narrow slot canyon just past the Anniversary Mine, but I'd had no idea when I created the route that we'd be squeezing through the bottom of a narrow wash to get there. It was fabulous.

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We arrived right around 1:00pm, to what was clearly one of the more popular places we'd visited so far. Situated in Lovell Wash - a different wash than the one we'd driven to get there - Anniversary Narrows was accessible from both the east and west, though there were approximately two dozen people accessing it from the east, and just us from the west. The reason became obvious to us later: access from the east was significantly easier along a well graded gravel road!

In fact, we were happy to be alone on our side of the wash and @mrs.turbodb set about the assemblage of tuna sandwiches, while I gathered up my camera equipment and munched on potato chips. It was a rough life, eating chips while someone else makes your sandwich, let me tell you.

As it had earlier in ********** Canyon, the clouds continued to push in here as well, and we rushed through our lunch a little more than I think we'd have preferred in an attempt to get going on our hike into the slot canyon before the entire sky was gray.

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Even before we reached the narrows - perhaps half a mile up the wash - we were treated to some glorious geology. Folding, uplifting, and even strange circular formations lined the walls of the wash. Oh, to have a timelapse of the last billion years or so that I could play back and watch everything unfold.

Folding under pressure.​

There were only two of these circular formations. Perhaps once a pool, eventually tilted from horizontal to nearly vertical?​

And then, the narrows. Unlike many slot canyons where the walls are worn smooth - or are at least smooth from a distance, the walls of Anniversary Narrows are composed of numerous thin limestone and mudstone layers angled at nearly 45°.

Entering the narrows.​

While not as tight or deep as some other slot canyons, the tight turns and angled shelves made for an enjoyable experience as we worked our way up the narrows. At one point @mrs.turbodb got a bit ahead of me - the slow poke taking photos - and I came around a bend to find her perched high on a shelf, waiting.

Bird's eye view.​

As cool as the narrows were, there was one drawback - their popularity. We'd managed to work our way perhaps 500 feet into the narrows before running into any other people, but all of a sudden we had folks approaching from both directions. The slot canyon making for an essentially enclosed space, we quickly donned our masks and moved over to keep our distance, somewhat expecting others to do the same.

Nope. We were technically outdoors, and I'm not really sure what the mask tendencies in the Las Vegas area are, but it was immediately obvious that we were going to be in the minority from a masking and distancing perspective on this hike.

We pushed on around the next few bends.

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Eventually though, two things became clear: first, as the slot got narrower, the crowds got tighter; second, it was starting to rain. Mentioning to @mrs.turbodb that it was probably in our best interest to turn around in case it really started to get wet (and muddy) and because there was no reason for us to risk exposure to someone unknowingly carrying covid-19 just to see a slot canyon, we turned around after about 70% of the narrows and headed back toward the Tacoma.

Looking downstream, the light played entirely differently off the canyon walls.​

Just as we exited the slot canyon, the first of several 50mph gusts whooshed out behind us, blasting us with sand and pushing us forward - a good indicator of how parts of this canyon were formed. Neither of us dressed for this sudden change in weather, we picked up the pace and soon found ourselves back at the truck, the rain really starting to come down.

That wouldn't usually have been any sort of problem - and hopefully it wouldn't be this time - but there was one reasonably technical obstacle to overcome in order to climb up and out the east side of Lovell Wash - another reason that most folks approached from the east, and never made it to the west.

Of course, an obstacle like this always looks easier on camera, but careful tire placement was necessary to make this work.​

And with that - as everyone else seemed to scatter for home - we hoped the rain would pass quickly and set off to our next destination just a few miles away: The Bowl of Fire.

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The brightly colored red, pink and orange Aztec sandstone seen most prominently in Valley of Fire also occurs at other locations around the north and west shores of Lake Mead. We'd been to a couple of these on our trip a year earlier at Whitney Pockets and Hidden Valley, but we'd never visited - or even known about - the Bowl of Fire. Here the rocks are exposed at the foot of a steep limestone ridge on the north side of Callville Wash, and are accessible via a 4wd road and a three mile hike. Perfect!

We were treated to a mint green mound of limestone with our first view of the bright red Bowl of Fire. Now, if only the sun would come out!​

This is how they make mint chip ice cream. Allegedly. Allegedly.​

It had only been 45 minutes or so since the rain in the slot canyon, but the strong winds had already blown the moisture through and while the gusty winds remained, it was now totally dry with some sun breaks. Eager to get going, we parked the truck and started up the wash that would allow us access to what we hoped would be a fabtacular view of some amazing orange rocks.

Yep, worth it.​

When you get to a place like this - a place little visited and yet totally spectacular - it's easy to get lost as you wander around, trail-less. So, we did. Well, we wandered around anyway, we didn't actually get lost. Not that we'll admit to the world!

Little arches.​

Vibrant desert shrubs.​

Sandstone tafoni wind caves. Or, elf windows.​

Elephant arch.​

Though many times smaller than Valley of Fire, the Bowl of Fire could have kept us busy for days. Part of me wanted to come back the next morning - hopefully with the sun shining - but we realized that for all we knew, the weather could take a turn for the worse and so it'd be better to just stick around a bit longer into the late afternoon while it was at least dry.

This turned out to be a great decision, the sun eventually creeping low on the horizon, illuminating the orange rock against dark storm clouds.

Layers.​

This mountain is on fire!​

Of course, we couldn't stick around forever, and knowing that we still needed to find camp for the night, we set off towards the truck around 4:30pm - half an hour before sunset, with maybe another 30 minutes or so after that to find camp.

Heading back towards whence we came.​

The sun continued its display once we got back to the truck - clouds always such a mixed blessing in my mind when it comes to adventure. On the one hand, they generally indicate less-than-perfect weather. On the other, they sure add a lot of visual interest to every element of the landscape!

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We found camp - in a hopefully-wind-sheltered area along the side of Callville Wash - at the peak of sunset, and I took a few photos before setting up the tent and tying our 5-gallon water Jerry can to the ladder - the wind gusting to 45mph, enough to blow the tent shut without the extra weight!

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Dinner was my - our - favorite of the trip. A Vietnamese Bánh mì inspired chicken sandwich that @mrs.turbodb has been making recently and that consists of marinated chicken, and spicy (jalapeño and habanero) pickled carrots and cucumbers, along with a bit of mayo and cilantro on a hoagie roll.

I always eat two.

For a while after dinner we read our books and caught up on a bit of photo processing in the cab of the truck as the wind rocked us back and forth, our hope that it would subside dwindling by the minute. Eventually, we realized that waiting out the wind wasn't in the cards, so we brushed our teeth and climbed into the tent - earplugs at the ready.

Not that they'd help all that much. This was going to be our worst night of sleep during the entire trip as we fought to keep the tent from eating us alive. Oh, and the sand. But we'll get to that, next time!

 

I'm having issues getting stuff off the camera. At the moment, it's gotta be WiFi. USB no workie and it should. Of course, neither does the card reader-so I might just be in for a new laptop. Who knows?

I bought a 14mm Rokinin RF lens. I'll probably get something more toward 50mm sooner rather than later. I definitely plan on 70-200. After that, who knows?

 

I can’t believe I’ve driven so close to where those petroglyphs are! Definitely know where I need to go first when we inevitably move back to Vegas.

 

I'll bite.

A ball joint can and will separate from it's joint possibly easier than a uniball, I'm not super sure of that though, would take a lot for either to separate though.

That unibal is fine and looks intact. What seems to be missing is the bolt, which to means someone wasn't either A) Torquing things correctly B)wasn't checking bolts after installing. Totally human error.

 

Funny thing. I'm getting a new computer too, mostly b/c I'm just looking forward to something more powerful than a laptop, which I've used for the last 20 years. I'll still use the laptop a lot, but it'll be nice to have something beefy when I want it. The biggest issue is getting a CPU and GPU right now. It's insane, really.

Glad you know it. You'll enjoy it.

LOL, I didn't want anyone to actually bite, just stir the fire, hahaha. I'm sure you're right - human error. That truck didn't look "well cared for," so I'm sure it was someone just out hucking around drunk and it bit them in the ass. I did find it funny that they removed their plates when they left the truck there. Didn't want anyone reporting their truck, hahahaha!

As for the uniball/ball joint debate, I think it's a lot like many of the other debates that really don't matter at the end of the day except in situations we generally don't find ourselves in anyway...

 

You should try out the newer MacBook pros. They are insanely beeefy computers. I run a fully loaded one for all my massive audio post production work and it cruises along like a champ.

 

From Fire, to Gold (Butte) - Mid-Winter #4

The winds tore through our camp as ferociously as ever the entire night. Even with 35lbs of water weighing down the ladder of the tent to keep that side from folding up on us, there were several points at which I was sure we were going to be the middle ingredients in a CVT sandwich. I even nudged @mrs.turbodb at 2:00am and yelled through the screaming wind and her earplugs to scoot down on the mattress so we had more of our weight on the cantilevered side of the tent.

It wasn't lost on me that this wouldn't be an issue with a GFC.

Unfortunately, while I'd successfully saved us from a fold-over, my brain failed to register the fact that the gusty wind was also hurling all the fine sand it could through our tent doors, and had long ago blown away the washcloths that @mrs.turbodb had left to dry on the ladder. And so, we awoke to a fine grit on - and in - our sheets, all over our on our faces, in our hair. and little crunchies between our teeth. Splendid.

Have I mentioned my desire for a GFC?

Determined not to let the wind beat us, I climbed down out of the tent well before sunrise and went off in search of the washcloths. To my surprise, I found them both - proudly shuttling them back to the Tacoma, sure I'd be in for a fine reward. Then, I just climbed to the side of the wash and waited - it's not like I was going to get any more sleep anyway.

Still windy, but looking brighter.​

Eventually I called @mrs.turbodb out of the tent - probably a bit earlier than normal - so we could eat breakfast and get our day underway - we had a lot of driving in front of us, and it seemed silly to keep "sleeping," when the experience was more like a combo sandblasting/washing machine.

Of course, eating Cheerios in that kind of weather isn't exactly easy, and I'm sure the ants and critters who call the wash home are now our biggest fans. Still, the sun was making things look fancy as we pulled out, so our complaining was short lived as we continued to shake sand out of our hair.

Underway. As usual, with a headwind.​

I see you hiding in there, Bowl of Fire!​

What would you say if I told you that all of the mountains are red underneath? The whole area will be spectacular in a few million years.​

From the Bowl of Fire, we had a few miles - perhaps eight or so - to travel east on highway (NV-167) before we'd find ourselves at the southern end of the Bittersprings Trail Backcountry Byway. This was a trail we'd travelled last year, but never made it all the way through due to time constraints and a lack of knowledge about what lay to the south. A good excuse to come back, I'd said at the time.

Back on dirt.​

Not three minutes into our drive north, we saw a black stallion near the side of the road. In what I was sure would end poorly, I turned off the truck to see how close I could get for a photo.

Hey there buddy.​

Please don't kick me.​

As it turns out, while I was out of the truck, a second reasonably tame horse approached from behind, and soon @mrs.turbodb was also out, risking life and limb. I obviously don't know the history of these horses, but while they were roaming free-range, they were extremely curious and tame - sniffing our hands as we held them out, and allowing a quick pet on the nose. Pretty cool experience, if a bit on the stupid side on our part.

Anyway, the first section of Bittersprings Road reminded me of Canyon Sin Nombre in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park as we wound our way through a wide wash, mountains rising up in the distance. High praise, given that Canyon Sin Nombre was probably my favorite from our two week trip to the park.

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Still before 9:00am when we approached the foot of the Muddy Mountains, our early start would end up paying dividends - giving us a bit more time to enjoy ourselves on the Byway, rather than simply using it as a dirt route to I-15 - our ultimate route to Gold Butte National Monument.

Muddy Mountains seems like an appropriate name for these.​

Just past the Muddy Mountains - or I guess more correctly, once we were in the mountains - we started to see the colorful outcroppings of Buffington Pockets. These candy-cane striped layers of sandstone are what make this area really special, and we took a few minutes to get out of the truck and climb on a few of them - only the cool, gusty, wind driving us back to the relative warmth of our seats.

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Recognize that snow-covered peak? I didn't either - at first. @mrs.turbodb did, however, it's Telescope Peak!​

As I alluded to earlier, I'd planned to just use this route as a nice 30-mile stretch of dirt to get us between point A and point B - we had, after-all, explored this place before. But as we pulled up on the heart of Buffington Pockets, we couldn't resist checking out the owl dam, as well as some nearby petroglyph panels, and being that it wasn't yet 10:00am, we figured we could spare an hour or so poking around.

Always striking.​

Touched up with fresh paint since last year, me thinks.​

The petroglyph panels in this area - at least the ones we know about, though I'm sure there are many we don't - are not far away or hard to get to, as long as you know where they are. Of course, if you don't, you can have just as much fun scouring the rocks and enjoying their color - something we did more of on this visit than on our previous trip; no pressure to find the glyphs this time.

A new rock fall exposes unvarnished stone!​

Perpetual raindrops. Or rock freckles. You decide. (And what are they really?)​

Tiny striped arch.​

Of course, we did make it to the petroglyph panels, and they were as striking as ever. It was interesting to notice the different levels of patina on the panel, an indication that new glyphs were etched over the top of old, over a significant length of time!

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We also made an unfortunate new discovery. Someone in the last 11 months had created their own panel of new glyphs. Luckily they weren't all that close to the historic panels - we don't even know if they ever found those - but still, the lack of respect was a bit indicative of what we've seen over the last year. Hopefully something that will get back to normal as the outdoor frenzy caused by the pandemic, eases.

Not cool.​

Hopping back in the Tacoma, we wrapped up the last few miles of the Bittersprings Trail Backcountry Byway and started east on I-15 towards the town of Mesquite where we planned to fuel up and buy a half gallon of milk to cover the remainder of our breakfasts.

Initially - and if I'm being honest, because I was lazy - I figured we ought to just travel the 60 miles of pavement aired down and at a lower rate of speed. But 15psi, a 5300lbs truck, and a strong headwind - having shifted again as we changed directions, and now blowing out of the north - weren't making for a good combination. Even @mrs.turbodb could tell the Tacoma was struggling, and we decided that we'd have the least enjoyable lunch of the trip - on the side of I-15 while I aired up the tires.

That whole situation ended up working reasonably well - our tuna sandwiches disappearing just as the last tire reached full pressure - and the potato chips distracted from my initial lame decision making, thank goodness.

The rest of the trip to - and through - Mesquite was uneventful and we soon found ourselves driving past what we refer to as the Crazy Bundy Ranch on our way into Gold Butte.

Just a bit of snow... for now.​

The most under appreciated National Monument? Perhaps.​

On our previous trip to Gold Butte we'd explored several of the petroglyph sites in the heart of the monument, but we'd done almost no exploration along the series of roads that form a loop around the edge. Our goal this time was to remedy that - focusing on the border and trying our hardest to resist the interior.

The only road from the north passes through Whitney Pockets before heading south around the lower part of the monument, but we limited our stop to airing down, since we've been here before.​

Back on the road and away from the crowds that cluster around Whitney Pockets.​

Some ten miles south of Whitney Pockets - on a road that's uncomfortable even at 15 psi - is Devil's Throat. According to a sign posted at the edge of this 120' wide, 120' deep sinkhole, the catastrophic event was witnessed by cowboys in 1908 as they were riding nearby and noticed a large cloud of dust rise into the air.

There are several - at least seven - more of these sinkholes found in the monument. Each was created when a layer of gypsum - sandwiched between limestone below and alluvium above (poorly consolidated rocks, gravel, sand, and dirt from alluvial fans eroded off surrounding mountains) - was dissolved, leaving a cavern that could not support its own weight.

Terra firma, or not so much?​

Of course, it is not only under the existing sinkholes that the geology of the area matches this description. Something to keep in mind - or not - as you're driving around in the monument!

Continuing south now, there wasn't a whole lot to see until we reached the very southern end of Gold Butte - at least, not a lot that we knew to go look at. @mrs.turbodb took the opportunity to nap, and I enjoyed the vast desert views - green just starting to spread across the yellow and red ground, contrasting nicely against the partly cloudy sky.

Looks like a volcano to me...​

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<p class="full-width-container">A short side trip at the bottom of the route brought us to an old vermiculite mine, much of its sorting equipment strewn across the site - perhaps under an unreasonable expectation that it would be used again one day.</p>

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There also seemed to be a bunch of calcite in the area.​

Only a few miles from the vermiculite mine was the old town site of Gold Butte. Gold was discovered here in 1905, and a tent city and post office, store, saloon, and brothel were established in 1906. Soon, more than 2,000 people lived in the area - all in tents, making it easy for them to move on when the gold ran out. Still, a couple of hearty ranchers (Bill Garret and Art Coleman) stayed for the next 40 years, well known for their hospitality to anyone who happened by on the Gold Butte Trail. Both are buried near the site of their old home. (Gold Butte Townsite Marker)

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As we wrapped up our reading and poking around of the area - which didn't take long as there isn't much left to see - we had a decision to make. My original plan had us camping here - or somewhere nearby - for the night, heading north again in the morning. But, we still had a few hours until sunset and it seemed a shame to waste them, so we decided to push on - perhaps to camp nearer our first hike of the morning, allowing us an early start.

And so, we headed north - up the western side of the monument - through a forest of Joshua Trees and a few water gathering devices.

Never got the memo that it was a Joshua Tree. Assumed it was a palm.​

Usually these water collection (and distribution) devices are placed near a spring that dried up for some reason, since animals knew to come to the area for water, already.​

The road on the west side was significantly less travelled than the one we'd driven down on the east, making it much more comfortable and allowing us to make reasonably good time as we headed north towards Little Finland.

Road with a view.​

Getting closer.​

Before we explored Little Finland however, we made a slight detour to a spot that I hoped would be just as dramatic - Seven Keyholes Slot Canyon and Kirk's Grotto. This, it turns out, was contained in the heart of the red rock formation we'd been enjoying for the last twenty minutes, and as we parked at the trailhead, we were excited to give it a closer look.

A playground of color.​

Red rocks rising.​

Like the Bowl of Fire, this is a place where you can spend as much or little time as you please. We started assuming it would be "much," but after wandering for 10 minutes or so, a group of about 20 loud UTVers showed up and we decided to cut our time short. Still we found plenty of petroglyphs, and enjoyed the Keyhole Slot immensely.

Mouse-man.​

Wind and water work wonders.​

Hidden glyphs on a dark panel.​

A striking outcropping.​

Looking back now, we probably rushed things more than we needed to - we may have been able to wander into some adjacent canyon, or lose ourselves away from the crowd - but the fact that we didn't means we have a good reason to return. This is a place that most certainly holds additional secrets to be discovered!

As it was, we climbed back in the truck - now reasonably close to our jumping off point in the morning - we were keen to find a good spot to camp, and a key feature tonight was going to be finding somewhere sheltered from the wind!

Time to find camp.​

Winding our way down into a wash, it didn't take long for us to find a tributary that was labelled with the perfect sign: "Dead End." We didn't know how long the road would be, but we knew that if there was no one else up there, it'd be our home for the evening.

It turns out the side wash was only a quarter mile deep, the walls tall enough to block the wind, and yet easy enough to climb for sunrise in the morning. As the last of the sun played across the sky, we counted ourselves lucky; splitting the jobs of deploying camp and getting ready for a dinner of tacos and guacamole.

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We had one more thing to do before climbing into bed: we removed all the bedding to shake out the sand that'd blown in the night before. While we were at it, we also pulled the Exped Megamat and anticondensation matt from the tent to wipe out the floor as well. A good 3 tablespoons of sand was removed - sand that could have found its way into our underwear, hair, and even our drooling mouths, if we hadn't taken care of it before hitting the sack.

Would the night be just as good? There was nothing to do now, but hope.

 

VERY nice, thanks for sharing. Never been to the National Monument, but gotta put it on our playlist. We try to avoid anything Las Vegas, but this is remote enough, it should keep most the tourists in the casinos where they belong.

 

@turbobd , thanks for letting us live the dream through your reality

 

Have you seen, or looked at, https://www.hiatuscampers.com/ ?

 

I never really knew what all was "around" until boy... last year sometime. We made our first trip down to the eastern Mojave and had a great time. So great that we decided to see more of Nevada on the BDR later in the summer. It's a place we'll be continually coming back to, for years to come. A hidden gem in the west, really.

Glad you're enjoying, it's a lot of fun to get out there, and it's always nice to share with others. I remember the (many) years I couldn't get out as much as I do now, and how much I enjoyed trip reports from others on TW. Giving back is nice.

I haven't, until now. Not really my cup of tea, for a few reasons:

• Weight - those things are heavy! @ 500lbs
• Style - one of the things I really like about GFC is the wedge. We seem to spend a lot of nights in windy conditions - esp. during the winter, a side effect of the desert I guess - and a wedge would really cut down on the impact of wind.
• Cost - I already shudder at the price of a GFC. Double it for that Hiatus! Yikes.
• Timing - Order (and pay half) now for a camper in May 2023. No thanks. I think I can do something better with the $7,500 over the next two years. Seriously, I know the markets have been insane for the last decade, and past performance doesn't indicate the future, but over the next two years, I think the future is bright and we'll see returns along the lines of the last several. If that's 20% APR, then over 2 years, a $7,500 down payment is really equivalent to $10,800.

I do suppose that if someone is looking at a Four Wheel Camper or something, this might be a good/viable alternative though! And it's always nice to have options out there.

 

I've never been a fan of pay me now for something you'll get in a year. It leaves the customer with all the risk aside from the cost of borrowing.
Sharing the risk? Sure. A payment schedule consistent with progress (based on percent completion), I'd consider that. But if there is sufficient demand that the mfg is a year out, there's really no need for them to such a huge down payment.

 

I can see both sides really. There's a level of commitment they want, and the 50% down is to cover that commitment. It's not unlike armor fab places - Relentless, BAMF, etc. - they all have lead times, but you pay up front. Heck, even ordering a bed rack from me, folks pay before I build (albeit they pay a lot less money).

In this case though, 50% is lot of money. Personally, I think a better model might be $500 down to hold your place in line (a la GFC), and then as you mentioned, more money - maybe half, or even 100% - when the build starts. But hey, they've clearly got enough takers to keep them busy for a couple years, so they must be doing something right.

 

Holy cows. This one hit me pretty good. Just like some of your other trips.
I hope to buy you a beer someday out of gratitude. I've really learned a lot and have been truly inspired by your thread.
Thanks again!

 

Camping on a Cliff - Mid-Winter #5

Sleeping in our own little private wash was magical. If there was a lick of wind, it went right over our heads and at one of our lower elevations for the trip, it was reasonably warm as well. I think we'd gone to bed exhausted around 9:00pm, and when I woke up at 6:45am for sunrise, I was ready and raring for a new day! The view - a couple dozen short steps up the wash walls behind camp - was a nice motivator as well.

We'd camped at the base of Bitter Ridge LWC.​

I'll need to go back to wander this place in the future.​

I soaked in the solitude for a while and then whistled down to @mrs.turbodb that it was time to get up. We'd noticed over the course of the trip that the clearest time of day was generally the first several hours after sunrise, and I wanted to make sure that we visited our first stop for the morning - Little Finland (aka Devil's Fire) within that window. We'd even considered camping below the cliffs, but decided against in just in case others had the same idea. This turned out to be a good decision, as the crisp early morning air easily carried a few voices across the desert to my position on the overlook!

A quick breakdown of camp - without the concern that everything was filled with sand this time - and we were on our way.

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Like many of the sites we visited this trip, Little Finland is a place with no set trail. A place where one simply wanders, experiencing the magic of the site through their own eyes and in their own way. Should a formation catch one's attention, the route changes on the fly, ultimately resulting in as many routes as people who've visited.

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It was no different for @mrs.turbodb and me. We entered the jumble of weathered fins - hence the name - together, but within minutes, if not seconds, we were each on our own path. It was one of the few times I've seen her pull out her phone and start taking photos - an exercise she generally leaves to me on trips. The place was just that unique.

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We wandered for over an hour. First here, then there. Separate, then together, then separate again. We'd whistle for each other - to show a swirl in the sandstone here, or a shape in the formation there - then meander apart again. And, arriving just as the sun was peaking over the lowest clouds on the horizon, we had the whole place to ourselves - even the folks camped below weren't out exploring, yet. We really couldn't have asked for anything more.

Sunstar through stone.​

Pug arch.​

But eventually we got hungry. We hadn't eaten back in camp because it was so early when we'd left, but now it was getting on 8:00am and our stomachs were letting us know that it was Cheerios time. Employing a circuitous route in order to extend the exploration, we made our way back to the Tacoma to appease our appetite, our view of Bitter Ridge now even more brilliant than it'd been when I'd first woken up.

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Having seen what we'd come to see - or at least, what we could see in a couple hours - at Little Finland, we'd nearly completed our loop of Gold Butte. All that was left was to continue along Mud Wash Rd, back towards Whitney Pockets, where we'd head east - on dirt - towards the Grand Canyon. As usual, I make that sound more straight forward than it actually was - since sights along the way were sure to delay what could probably have been a simple 4 hour drive.

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The first of those stops was less than 2 miles away at the Mud Wash petroglyph site.

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Composed of a few panels, high above the wash - perhaps even authored when the bottom of the wash was several feet higher than it is today - these glyphs were reasonably bright given their location on a main thoroughfare. I wonder how many folks go blasting by on their UTVs, completely unaware of what they are missing.

Lots of glyphs here - bighorn sheep, coyotes, and plenty of humanoids.​

Man with big hands.​

Finally, we set off towards Whitney Pockets. How far would we make it? Probably only far enough for another photo.

Not very far from Mud Wash petroglyphs.​

Now, the plan at Whitney Pockets had been - as with the previous day - to just drive on through, since we'd explored the CCC cistern and a few other sites only a year ago on our first trip to the Eastern Mojave. But, as we slowly drove through the area, we realized that the throngs of people who'd been there for the long weekend had already left, rendering it nearly deserted.

How could we resist a quick look at the dam? I know I couldn't.

No water being held back this time.​

Somehow, we kept our visit to five minutes, and soon we were headed out of Gold Butte National Monument on Whitney Pass Road - a byway that would shuttle us east into Arizona and the Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument.

Headed up to Whitney Pass.​

Looking back on Whitney Pockets and Lake Mead in the distance.​

Welcome to Arizona, our fifth state of what would be a six-state adventure.​

As we tooled along - the road in pretty great condition since there hadn't been any rain recently - we were making good time until the glint of windows on the ridge above us caught my eye. A cabin, with a 2-track road leading off the main route - how could we not go see what that was all about? Having also gotten cell service as we hit the ridge, @mrs.turbodb was also fine with this little detour, though I couldn't resist ribbing her that she was missing life buried in her cell phone.

This BLM cabin was locked up, but nicely appointed. I wonder if it's a rental or how it's used?​

Apparently even the BLM knows the value of location, location, location.​

Descending the pass, we were treated to another display of red-and-orange rock outcroppings - but the thing that caught our eye was another cabin. From a distance, this one looked like it might be occupied, but on closer inspection it was far from habitable. Obviously an old ranch, the structure itself had been vandalized over the years, and only the water trough seemed to be in use, judging from the tens of thousands of cow patties in the area.

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It was getting on noon by this time, and our stomachs once again were firing their alarm bells to let us know that it was time for potato chips. We decided that the right place to stop was probably the same stretch of road where we'd turned around last time - the mud too deep, and my tires too slick, to continue.

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Ask me how I know that this stretch of road is impassable when wet. ​

I should note that as we stopped, we noticed that the wind was starting to pick up again - as it had every afternoon - and once again it was blowing in the exact opposite direction of our travel. Seriously - it was as though for the entire trip, if anyone needed to know which direction the wind was blowing, you could assume our truck was a windsock, pointed into the wind.

But now I'm just ranting, when I should really be thankful for the tuna sandwiches, which were once again, delicious.

Lunch complete, we soon completed our jaunt on Whitney Pass Road (which I suppose became Mojave County Road 101 in Arizona) and joined up with Mt. Trumbull Loop road - which would shoot us south to Whitmore Overlook and the very edge of the Grand Canyon.

As you can imagine, as we turned south, the wind shifted as well. Just saying.

This kite was "kiting." It was beautiful, despite the spiteful wind.​

Looking for lunch.​

Still quite early in the afternoon, we were in no real rush to reach the end of the road, as we figured that - what with it being the middle of the week - we'd be the only ones there. And so, as we travelled along, I stopped at several of the more interesting places along the way to show @mrs.turbodb some of the awesome things I'd seen for the first time on the F.U.Rain trip back in 2018.

Is it just me, or is everything just a little sideways?​

Mt. Trumbull school, version 3, now with rope to ring bell. This school has burned twice before, and been rebuilt each time.​

Photogenic pickup.​

Not really all that helpful if you actually read it.​

The trip along Mt. Trumbull road initially climbs as you head south - up to 5,500' or so - before dropping down again towards the Colorado River. And let me tell you, the dropping down part is spectacular. I'd forgotten how great this approach was, and I was quite regularly out of the truck in order to take photos of the landscape as we shed elevation.

Wow.​

Wow. Wow.​

It was @mrs.turbodb who spotted a rock - high above the road, at the base of and adjacent plateau - that she thought contained some petroglyphs. Using her binoculars, I was pretty sure it didn't, but we had plenty of time before sunset and what better way to spend it than parking the Tacoma on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and hiking to a random jumble of patinaed rocks in search of ancient art?

That might sound sarcastic, but I'm serious.

@mrs.turbodb leads the way.​

I don't want to say I was right, but let's just say that as we got closer, it was clear that there were no petroglyphs on the rock that we'd set out to investigate. However, along the way we had come across a BLM marker urging us to protect our heritage, so we knew there must be something worth finding in the area. So, with nothing to go on but the orientation of the marker, we set off - this really was turning into quite the treasure hunt!

It took nearly a mile of hiking and glassing with the binoculars before we hit the jackpot. It wasn't rock art that I ultimately spotted, but another marker. And, once we arrived at the marker, there was only one place nearby that looked out of the ordinary.

Tidal wave rock.​

There, under the shelter of the wave, were pictographs. These were special - bright and polychromatic, they contained geometric shapes, animals, plants, and even humanoids. How lucky were we? I mean, except for the headwinds, obviously.

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As we marveled at this extra-special discovery - all the more satisfying since we essentially set off on a whim - the sound of an engine rumbling down the road reached our ears. Uh oh. There was obviously nothing we could do about it - and I knew there were a couple of sites at Whitmore Overlook should someone get there before us - but we headed back to the Tacoma regardless, as we didn't want to end up coming all this way for nothing.

It probably took us twenty minutes to retrace our steps - our pace much faster now that we were no longer in "hunt mode" - and just as the truck came into view, so did a full-size Dodge Ram sporting a pop-up camper. And there was no way we were going to be on the road ahead of them.

Well, crap.​

We hustled down to the road as the truck rumbled by, and quickly climbed into the Tacoma as I pressed the skinny actuator in the foot well just a little harder in order to catch up. We did, reasonably quickly, and to my surprise the Dodge pulled to the side to let us by! For the next mile or so I continued to work the skinny pedal liberally, drifting through a couple corners in order to put a little distance between our vehicles.

And the view kept getting better.

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And then - surprising both of us - oncoming traffic. A rental Jeep carrying two young whipper-snappers came gingerly up the road towards us. Could it be? Were we really lucky enough that the engine we'd heard earlier belonged to this Jeep? All we could do was hope.

Then, we arrived. And we were alone.

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Eventually - nearly half an hour later, as we were setting up camp - the pop-up camper arrived; but after a few photos, they retreated to a nearby spot a little further from the cliff's edge - neither of us able to see the other in this grand place.

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We didn't wander far from the edge for the rest of the evening, so dramatic was the experience. We ate an early dinner so as to take advantage of the warm temps (at only 2,500') and make clean-up a breeze. And then, we enjoyed the sunset.

Sittin on the rock, I will stay,

Watchin' the tide roll away.​

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It was by far our favorite site of the trip, and one that I was excited to finally share with @mrs.turbodb. And still, as perfect as it all was, and as sure as we were as to our plans the following day - things always have a way of working themselves out differently, and tomorrow would be no exception!