Back for More (Death Valley - Dec 2021)

I do so love Mengal pass, I wish I had taken pictures on the last day of 2017 when I saw an F-150 get beached on the last obstacle haha. We breezed right through even in the dampness and even with a fat/low land cruiser.

 

From strictly a 'wheeling' perspective, this was the funnest day of the trip. Some amazing terrain we encountered.

 

Agreed

 

yeah definitely the most fun driving day.

 

I'm considering going back to spend a couple days in the Lower Park/Pleasant Canyon areas. Any of you feel like the trail would be significantly difficult the opposite direction than we travelled (really just that one spot)? Seemed like it wouldn't be to me assuming I took the better line, but then, I'm not sure I'm the best judge of that spot, hahahaha!

 

I don't see why you couldn't go the other way, nothing was super tight, even that spot. You just didn't wanna go over a rock

 

Nah be a breeze. Just watch your line, be fun as you'll be tipping down hill ha

And Mike knows best when you decide to avoid rocks on cliffs

 

Eye of the Storm - Back for More #4
Part of the Back for More (Dec 2021) trip.

I've found no place in all my exploration of Death Valley National Park that I like more than waking up to a view of Striped Butte. You can imagine then - sleeping in our tents less than a mile away - that I had more than one alarm set in order to ensure my alertness when as the sun began to illuminate the sky.

With the skies clear after an evening of rain, and before the sun even crested the horizon, I soaked in one of my favorite sights in the world.​

I spent nearly an hour hopping around behind, in front, and around camp - sometimes snapping photos, other times just watching from a momentarily comfortable rock - as the sun crept into the sky, bathing the mountain and valley with long orange rays.

First light on the hillsides, the sun still below the horizon.​

Still asleep.​

Nature's candy cane. Remember, these colorful layers were originally deposited horizontally.​

It was - I'd later realize - the perfect start to a wonderful day. A day where everything seemed great on the surface. Just like it does in the eye of a storm. Of course, now I'm getting ahead of myself.

As others began to stir, I took the opportunity to dig into the transfer case issue I'd noticed just before we rolled into camp the previous evening. Around the campfire, I'd theorized that the sounds I'd heard almost exactly three years and 100,000 miles earlier - and the resulting mud-colored oil I'd removed from my transfer case at the time - could have been the first indicators of a problem that had simply taken this long to surface again. Still, Zane @Speedytech7 and Monte @Blackdawg had suggested that I take off the J-shift, just to see if the problem was the bushing - an easy fix.

A few screws and bolts were all that was necessary to access the top of the transfer case. Unfortunately, it was in perfect working order.​

Buttoning everything back up, eating breakfast, and putting away camp took another 50 minutes, and like clockwork we rolled out of our site just after 8:45am - everyone looking forward to the day ahead, and thankful that the less-than-ideal weather had tamped down the dust, making for much a much more pleasant caravan.

I wasn't the only one who was soaking in the views.​

Not far from camp, we stopped in at the Geologist Cabin. While we could have set up camp at this location, I've always felt that the spot by the rocks is nicer, making the cabin a nice place to check out on the way into - or in our case out of - Butte Valley.

It's unlikely that our engines had even warmed up by the time we were parked again.​

I'd wager that this is the most well-known, and perhaps the most nicely maintained, backcountry cabin in the park.​

Did someone say Diet Caffeine Free Coke? Clearly, they knew I was coming!​

Built in 1930 by Asa Russell (aka Panamint Russ), the cabin served as his living quarters as he worked a mine claim high up the side of old Manly Peak. An article, written by Russell himself in the April 1955 edition of Desert Magazine details some of his adventures in the area.

Left a little note for future explorers. Perhaps one day, they will find their way to this trip report!​

Good advice, no matter where you may find yourself exploring.​

Even if there's a better place to camp, it's still hard to complain about the view.​

From Butte Valley, we headed east. Our travels on this gorgeous day would take us through Warm Spring Canyon - stopping at several mines along the way - before dumping us out near the southern end of West Side Road. From there, we'd head north - exploring some of the more touristy sites the park had to offer - before finding camp somewhere in the Funeral Mountains.

Our first stop along this route was at Warm Springs Camp.

Lined up and - apparently - ready for Christmas.​

The old Gold Hill Mill sits near the road near Warm Springs Camp.​

An arrastre next to the mill. Ore was dumped into the stone lined trough and as the arrastra turned, large stones connected to the four arms were dragged over the ore to crush it.​

Getting artsy with some of the mill's old components.​

The history of Warm Springs Camp, the Warm Springs Talc Mine, and the Gold Hill Mill is not a pretty story.

In 1929, Louise Grantham - one of very few women in the mining industry - leased land from Bob Thompson, a local Timbisha Shoshone man. The springs were his ancestral homeland, but after signing a five-year lease and making just one payment, Grantham sued him for ownership.

With the legal battle underway, Grantham occupied this site and posted an armed watchman to guard against "trespassers." The courts eventually supported Thompson 's claim. For over a year, attempts were made to evict Grantham (including by federal marshals enforcing a court order), but she refused to comply.

Eventually, Thompson walked away from his claims. Grantham assumed total ownership and operated the most successful talc mine in the region until her death in 1969.

-NPS​

The interior of the mess hall, one of five main buildings that made up the camp.​

Grantham's personal residence was renowned for having the only swimming pool in Death Valley.​

After looking around the buildings - and commenting on the rather shitty way in which this place transitioned to become the property of Louise Grantham - we wandered over to the entrance to the White Pine Talc Mine - an opening large enough to drive a truck into.

The wood framing that supported the entrance to this mine was sketchy enough that Mike @Digiratus was content to stay back while the rest of us peered through the steel bars, wishing we could squeeze past.​

This shaft - seemingly supported by scraps of whatever the miners could find around camp - tunnels several hundred feet into the mountain.​

Unable to go inside, Monte and I climbed 50' to an upper shaft - the remnants of an old generator and ore track still clinging to the side of the cliff.

Sometimes when you need a generator to pull ore carts out of a mine, the front half an old truck fits the bill perfectly.​

Looking back up the canyon toward Butte Valley.​

It was already 10:45am by the time we wrapped up our exploration of the Warm Springs Camp and continued to make our way east towards Death Valley. Just before reaching another of Grantham's Talc Mine sites, Monte spotted a group of Desert Bighorn off the side of the road. Naturally, any sense staying on schedule was thrown to the wind, and we stopped to watch as the animals scaled the steep terrain as though the footing couldn't have been better.

My first sighting of Ovis Canadensis Nelsoni in the park!​

Neither of these two sheep were happy to have their photos taken.​

The loading bin at the lowest talc site along Warm Springs Road, the platform of the ramp towering 60 feet off the ground, and no longer stable enough to walk on.​

Err... I didn't think anyone caught that on camera.​

The last of the talc sites explored, we regrouped at the road and picked up speed as the surface became increasingly smoother as we exited the canyon and descended the alluvial fan into the valley. It is a grand entrance to be sure, the Black Mountains rising almost vertically in the distance, and yet the true scale of their prominence still completely deceiving.

Nothing like a 6,500' prominence to make you realize how tiny you really are.​

"Now this is a shot worth taking." -Mike (and apparently everyone else)​

With such a great view and reasonable temperatures - plus, knowing that there'd be very little, if any, traffic along this road at 11:30am on weekday - I suggested that perhaps this would be the perfect spot for lunch.

Anyone hungry?​

All of us, apparently.​

As we ate, we admired the view. To the east - obviously - the Black Mountains were the most prominent, but the view to the northwest was stunning as well - there, poking out of the clouds, was Telescope Peak, the upper elevations covered in a dusting of snow from the weather that'd rolled through the previous evening.

The snow on Telescope Peak wouldn't last long - it was completely gone by early afternoon.​

After a leisurely lunch - with no traffic at all - and thoroughly enjoying our vantage point on the alluvial fan, it was time to continue down into the valley of death. We'd play tourist for the afternoon, checking out the sights that most people come to see when they visit the park. We'd start with the most famous: Badwater Basin.

At 282 feet below sea level, Badwater Basin is the lowest point in the western hemisphere. Like most places below sea level, Death Valley wasn't created by erosion, rather, shifting of the earth's crust has dropped it to such a low elevation.​

Only two inches of water falls to the Death Valley floor every year. The water near the boardwalk is produced by a spring, the water spoiled by the surrounding 200 square miles of salt flats.​

A salt island.​

From Badwater Basin, we made our way a few miles north and soon we were headed out into the salt flats, this time to wander our way through the Devil's Golf Course. Here, crystallized salts compose jagged formations of a most forbidding landscape. Deposited by ancient salt lakes, they are shaped by winds and rain, the formations ever changing.

Walking out into the salt formations is a strange experience - the entire landscape is both delicate and as hard as a rock at the same time.​

Tiny tendrils rise up out of the salty surface.​

Away from the trampled main routes, delicate salt arches reach for the sky.​

Continuing north - the early afternoon sun of this most pleasant day to our back - our time on Badwater Road was short, a detour into the northern end of the Black Mountains the final touristy spot on our days agenda.

Headed into the colorful hillsides of Artists Palette.​

I think the best way to enjoy the stunning colors - the result of volcanic deposits rich in compounds such as iron oxides and chlorite, which creates a rainbow effect - is to park and hike into one of the many narrow canyons, or into the palette itself. For us though, a few stops along the road, and at the main overlook would suffice - not that we had anything to complain about except the crowds.

Someone spilled their mint ice cream on the hillside.​

Having enjoyed the mainline attractions, but ready to get back out of the crowds - if a couple dozen people can be called crowds - we pointed our Tacomas toward the hills and began our 10-mile trek into the Funeral Mountains by way of Echo Canyon.

Like Gohler Wash - and Titus Canyon before that - a few rocky sections help to keep the riff-raff at bay, but in general, the lower section of Echo Canyon is a relatively easy drive as long as you have the right vehicle. And on this trip, we wouldn't be tackling the much-more-difficult-upper section at all, so we leisurely wound our way between the soaring walls, stopping now and again to capture particularly photogenic formations.

Back on dirt and headed toward camp!​

Afternoon sun streamed into the canyon, the long low rays adding a glow to fingers reaching down into the wash.​

Oranges contrasted with blacks as we wound our way toward camp.​

Halfway to our destination, we made a quick stop at the Needles Eye Arch.​

Rainbow uplift.​

Our day almost done, I called out over the radio that we'd soon be passing the Inyo Mine. Knowing that getting to camp while it was still light was high on the list of priorities - especially given our late arrivals the last couple of evenings - I mentioned that we'd continue on to camp, and then anyone who was interested could drive back to check it out.

I took the silent response as a hint: I might be the only one turning around for a look.

We reached camp just before 3:45pm - a full 45 minutes before sunset, and a good 90 minutes before dark. At the end of a road and the edge of wilderness, we all - myself included - set up our tents, the lure of a relaxing evening outweighing the draw of the Inyo Mine. We could - I realized - visit it on the way out in the morning.

As the sun eased below he horizon, calm pinks and purples illuminated the clear skies above. A glorious end to a beautiful day.​

Once again, we'd covered a lot of ground, seen some of my favorite sights in the park, and we'd done so without a single worrisome noise from the underbelly of my Tacoma. Suffice it to say, it'd been a great day. Not only that, but the next two promised to be just as wonderful - our route taking us to Eureka and then Saline Valley.

But then, I find that it's rare that anything ever really goes to plan...

 

I had another behind the scenes...

 

I believe my comment was:

"wow, what a fucking bitch!"

Haha

 

That's a helluva dump. No wonder...

 

Just Like That, It's Over - Back for More #5
Part of the Back for More (Dec 2021) trip.

After another evening spent around Mike @Digiratus propane fire pit, we'd all climbed into our tents to clear skies and very light breeze. Thousands of feet above, however, things must have been different. Climbing down my ladder, a dark sky lent a dramatic air to our own little slice of paradise.

​

Here, at the end of the road, we had no idea what the day had in store.

Ironically - given that the trip would be over by 11:00am - we were out of camp earlier than any other morning of the trip, pulling up to our first stop - the Inyo Mine - at 8:26am. Having passed by the evening before - and with no idea that anything was amiss at this point - we were in high spirits as we piled out of our trucks to have a look around.

More colorful geology of Echo Canyon on display, even under overcast skies.​

Our parking methodology - four abreast in the middle of the road - may have been a bit... presumptuous, though it was a reasonably safe bet that we were the only ones in the area at such an early hour.​

The Inyo Mine's camp is a cluster of half a dozen wooden buildings at the foot of the steep hillside where gold was mined from several different elevations. One of the most scenic - of the easily accessible - mining camps in the park, it is one of the very few that might qualify as a ghost town. Anchored by a large wooden mill at the west end of the camp, this is a place worth setting aside an hour - or four - to explore, making me glad that I hadn't tried to rush through it the previous evening.

The remains of the Inyo Mine's ball mill.​

Although the ball mill itself has been removed, other major components of the mill remain. Its 30-ton ore bin, the wheels of the jaw crusher, its settling plates and large metal tank, and the diesel engine that powered it are still in place - each of them perched, welded, and rigged just so, as is often the case with desert machinery.

Settling plates to assist in the separation of gold from the worthless stone.​

A workshop near the mill stored spare parts and provided a place to fix anything that broke.​

A small dugout dating from the 1907 mining era.​

The boarding house.​

A building of unknown use, soon to be a pile of boards. Please, if you visit, don't accelerate the inevitable.​

Having explored the buildings at the lowest level of the mine site, it was time to head up the mountain to investigate a few of the workings. Split into three elevations of shafts, I'd only investigated the exterior of the first shaft when the @mrs.turbodb and I had visited one year earlier. I hoped that this time, Zane @Speedytech7, Monte @Blackdawg and I would explore at least one more adit before getting back on the trail.

A loading ramp and ore chute at the lowest shaft allowed material to be easily trucked down the hillside to the mill.​

After taking a few photos of the ore chute, I made a beeline for the adit. This - the Octaroon adit - was the main adit of the Inyo mine, connected to the others via a series of vertical and inclined shafts. We wandered in.

The floor of the Octaroon was dusty, depressions in the floor betraying the narrow-gauge rail that once carried carts full of ore to the chute at the entrance.​

A hundred feet in, we found a vertical shaft with a ladder leading to daylight. Soon, we'd discover the other end!​

We continued on.​

There were several forks in the Octaroon shaft, blasted away to follow the six veins of gold-bearing quartz contained in the mountain. Some were short, while others led to large caverns supported by timber.​

A sparkling vein of material.​

700 feet into the mountain, a ladder led up an inclined shaft - to where, even we were not going to find out.​

Thirty minutes after we entered - and after a moment of utter darkness deep in the mountain - we worked our way back toward the entrance, glad to have flashlights to aid us along the way. As we exited the mine, I suggested we head up the hill - to the second of three levels - since that would be new ground for me after my last visit. Monte and Zane were - naturally - game.

A hundred feet further up the mountain, we came upon the adit known as the Martha Raye. Actually, we came upon two shafts - one, a vertical shaft that we soon realized was the same one we'd seen from below as we'd explored the Octaroon, and a second that headed horizontally into the hillside - ripe for exploration.

Opting to work smarter rather than harder, miners used this vertical shaft to deliver ore from the Martha Raye adit to ore carts in the Octaroon. Today, signs at the opening implore visitors not to drop anything down the shaft as it has begun to impede the ability to explore the Octaroon.​

Shall we check this one out as well? Yes, we shall!​

Inside the Martha Raye was significantly different than the first shaft we'd explored. While the Martha Raye shaft did push its way into the hillside, there were many areas where miners had hollowed out large voids in the rock as they chased valuable material. Though most were no more than 2-3 feet high, they were 30 feet wide and extended for 50 feet or more - even pitching up, down, and sideways - where veins of quartz once ran through the mountain. The strange angles of the workings, the fact that the remaining material is heavily shattered, and the skimpiness of the wood framing make it a miracle that some of these adits have not yet collapsed.

Certainly, three beams can hold up a mountain... right?​

We spent significantly less time in the Martha Raye than we had in the Octaroon - each of us getting the feeling that the construction here wasn't quite as... reliable as we'd seen on the lower level. Within just a few minutes, we were headed back toward the safety of daylight, ready to return to the Tacomas.

The view across the Funeral Mountains and to the Panamints was breathtaking as we exited the mine.​

Back in the trucks and headed out Echo Canyon for Eureka Valley!​

We covered only a couple miles before I knew something was seriously wrong with my truck. Since hearing the weird noise from what I thought was my transfer case a couple days earlier, I'd had no reason to use 4-Lo - the only mode in which I'd noticed a problem. With the rest of the fellas suggesting that the problem was with one of the planetary gears in the doubler, I figured that as long as I really limited my 4-Lo usage, I'd be just find for the remainder of the trip. The problem was: I was currently in 2-Hi.

Immediately I stopped the truck and radioed back to the guys, calling Zane forward to listen to the sound that was now much louder - and more consistent - than it'd been before. Almost immediately, Zane zeroed in on it being the noise of a bearing spinning itself to bits. He suggested that I place the transfer case in neutral and the transmission in gear so that while the front half of the case would spin, the truck wouldn't go anywhere.

The sound persisted. Worse, the entire transfer case - and everything connected to it, up through the driver seat - began clicking.

"Definitely a bearing, looks like you're going home!" Monte said. And of course, Zane agreed. A bit of discussion ensued as I tried to better understand where the issue was, and how screwed I really was. What bearing did they think was failing? Did they think I would make it home? What was the worst that could happen if the bearing failed catastrophically along the way?

Guesses to those questions shared, Mike made a good suggestion - while the shortest route home was back through Nevada, the smarter route was probably to head west to US-395 and ultimately I-5, ensuring a relatively constant stream of civilization, should I need to avail myself of a u-haul trailer.

And, so it was - under the Needles Eye Arch - that we made the decision to call the trip. Zane and Mike would follow me home - just in case - and we'd all have to come back to Death Valley in the future to finish what we'd started.

It was hard to believe that in the span of just a few minutes, so much could change.​

Though my spirits were a bit crushed - how could my truck break when I was in the middle of showing off one of my favorite places to friends who'd never been before? - everyone else was completely understanding and remained in high spirits as we took our last photos.​

Finishing out Echo Canyon, the bearing that'd first caused me some trouble on a single trip 100,000 miles earlier, and that had acted up for only the second time a couple days before, was quite obviously in a much angrier mood. As if reading my mind, Monte chimed in over the radio, "I'm sure it's not easy, but just try to ignore it; you'll get home just fine."

Hoping he was right, I suggested that rather than heading straight home that we at least check out Zabriskie Point - just a mile or two away from the mouth of Echo Canyon. Everyone was game, so that's exactly what we did. We even used the stop to throw in the spare fuel we'd brought along - not need to pay California prices if we didn't need to - and air up our tires for the pavement in front of us.

As we climbed the paved trail to Zabriskie Point, our first view of the badlands - with the Black Mountains behind - was breathtaking.​

From the top, the badlands spread out - the fantastic marbling adding to the drama!​

These formations are the result of the recent uplift and erosion of sediments that settled to the bottom of a lake that covered Death Valley some 3- to 5-million years ago.​

As we walked back to the trucks, we noticed that we picked up a fifth vehicle. A classy gold one, no less!​

Any trip where you only air up once can't be all bad.​

Our trucks as road-worth as they could be - it turns out Mike was also experiencing some drive-train issues, though less-significant than mine - we all headed north on CA-190. We'd travel as a group of four for a few miles until Monte split off to Beatty and the rest of us continued to the Owens Valley.

Just before we split up, I spotted a vehicle along the side of the road. Oh, how I wish we'd been in a position to stop and find Ken @DVexile - hiking somewhere in a spectacular canyon nearby - but that wasn't in the cards today.

Well now, I know that truck.​

For the next 19 hours, I was more nervous than I've ever been when driving the Tacoma. Every few minutes, the balls would catch between the races, spinning and crunching. Every time, I'd jump in my seat. The pattern would repeat - sometimes seemingly better, other times much worse - all the way home. But Monte and the guys were right - I made it.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised... it is - after-all - a Tacoma.

 

I feel like there is more to this story. Like how I was almost arrested by the Big Pine Police Department because of Dan. And then there was that epic race to the top of that pass...

Unfortunately, there is no photographic evidence of these events.

 

Oh DAMN. It totally didn't register for me to get out and photograph your near arrest! Now I'm super bummed. We'll have to do it again next time, hahahaha!

 

Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this

 

Yeah, I know. You and Zane were too busy laughing your asses off at my predicament to think of documenting it.

 

The 23 hour drive home was quite the adventure in itself. There were more than a couple of dramas along the way.

 

I was not even remotely lucid for the last 8 hours of it.

 

You decided to tack on a couple of extra hours of driving too.

For me, the lifesaver (possibly literally) was the stop for the power nap right before dawn.