Desert Survivors NV Desert Trail Dispatches
This page will have the dispatches from the Desert Relay as they are sent in from the Trip Leaders.
DISPATCH FROM THE 2004 NEVADA DESERT TRAIL RELAY
This page contains Segments D, E, F, G.
Dispatch from Desert Trail Segment D -
Volcanic Hills
May 8-9, 2004
By Steve Tabor
This was the first of four Desert Trail segments in a row for me. Hot then cold then hot then muggy then just right was the way it would go in typical “unsettled” Nevada Spring weather. In the Volcanic Hills, the state’s continuing early heat wave was the culprit.
The of us met at the North Trailhead on U.S. Route 6. Jerry Goss was also there to provide fresh GPS units and help with the car shuttle. One of our projects on the Relay is to record the entire route on map-loaded GPS units so the information can be downloaded to a computer program. This will allow accurate mileages and an accurate tracing of the route. We drove to the South Trailhead in Fishlake Valley and waved goodbye to Jerry. Then we were off to the hills.
We stopped at Fishlake Hot Springs briefly while I told stories of construction and temperatures and itchy genital rashes of the past. No one got into the water so we moved on. We crossed the outwash plain to the base of the hills under clear skies with hardly any breeze. It was 86 F. when we got to our lunch spot. On our 1997 reconnaissance we’d seen many flowers on this part of the route. In this hot Spring there were hardly any, but the number of lizards made up for it.
We hiked up a shallow canyon to the crest of the hills, taking shade when we could. I was seriously compromised by the attitude and slowed down several times to catch my breath. We topped out at a wide saddle with abundant signs of Native-American presence, mostly chips and flakes of obsidian. The top of the South Volcanic Hills is a broad plateau with long views, classic desert. I pressed the group to continue to the crest, but a cooling breeze came up and we were all tired. We camped below the crest in a patch of tall four-wing saltbush. Our bed was soft pumice spewed out from Inyo Craters near Mammoth six hundred years ago.
On the second day, we rose to the crest for a view of the White Mountains, then dropped to State Highway 773. We crossed to a small spring showing on the map at the base of the colorful North Volcanic Hills. Though flowing in 1997 this spring was now dry. There was no sign of any water; a good thing I’d told everyone to fill up. Later we crossed the North Hills under beautiful cream- and red- and grey- and black-colored volcanic rock. This was joy to walk over. We rose to the crest of the North Hills and ate lunch at the top.
On the other side we found a huge game “guzzler”, newly-constructed. The metal catchment was 30 feet by 45 feet, emptying into four huge tanks measuring five feet by twelve feet. Water in the tanks was two feet deep. This was new since our 1997 visit. We found a single set of bighorn scat and tracks near the “guzzler”, plus those of deer. It’s hard to believe that bighorn will prosper in the small area of the Volcanic Hills, which are low in stature. Someone in Nevada Fish and Game has ambitious dreams.
In the afternoon, we hiked out of the hills to the cars. We had some hot times at our last rest stop in the canyon when the temperature reached 80 F. On the walk down the alluvial fan, those of us continuing on got to see ahead to the next segment of the Relay, where the Columbus Dry Lake beckoned. The group then returned to the South Trailhead for a welcome dip in the cool pool at Fishlake Springs.
This trip was a good warm-up for the next two segments, which would be done by a quartet of us staying on through the week. Those stories are below.
Dispatch from Desert Trail Segment E -
Columbus-Candelaria
May 10-12, 2004
By Steve Tabor
Steve Perry, Lasta Tomasevich and Gary Whiteley accompanied me on the next two Relay trips. These folks, all veteran Survivors, proved to be the mainstays of my four segments, as Robert Armstrong, Spencer Berman and Bruce Loeb had been on the first three. On the segments, resiliency, perseverance and a willingness to experience hardship (what the British explorers called “privation”) would be the keys to success, for we had lots of surprises.
Columbus Dry Lake, a rectangle six miles square, occupies most of its valley. Our crossing started innocently enough. We’d set up Gary’s truck at the North Trailhead the night before, so we could get an early start. It was seven miles across to the first shelter, the ghost town of Columbus. It was warm at the beginning, already 68 F. at 8:05 am. Soon little plumes of cloud appeared over the hills to the northwest and a little breeze kicked up. By 10:00, already three miles in, we were hiding behind our packs, out on bare playa, under winds of 25 mph with gusts to 40.
We continued on north, directly into the wind, as it shot up to 30 mph. First the hills were obscured by swirling dust, then the playa itself. On our next run it was clear that we were exhausting ourselves by hiking into the wind, so I headed for the only shelter I could see, some large greasewood bushes — at least they seemed large on the flat dust-shrouded playa with no landmarks. By the greasewood were bulldozer scoops with three-foot mounds on the windward side. I called a halt there and we laid down behind the mounds while the dust and stinging sand swirled around us. I was glad to be out of the wind’s full force, barely able to stand against it, much less walk in it.
We were pinned down behind the mound for three hours. Gary and I just lay behind our packs with our faces to the lee and eyes closed. At one point the wind dropped and Lasta and Steve wanted to continue on to some sand dunes a mile and one-half away. They said the choking dust was getting in their nostrils and eyes and we would have better shelter in the dunes. I thought that unlikely and anyway it was futile to even try to move into the wind. They solved their problem by pitching a tent and getting in it, using their bodies to hold it down.
By 1:30 pm, the wind had shifted 90 degrees to blow from the west. It was still strong, but was now blowing sideways across our line of travel. The dust had mostly dropped, so we could see where we were going. We hiked across the crunchy playa then the sand. We rested in the dunes for awhile, mostly out of the wind. We then did the final crossing to the ghost town of Columbus. I knew we could use the shelter of the buildings for a windless camp, but the dreariness of the trashed cabins and vandalized grounds was not inspiring. The wind dropped further, so we turned west on the route to hike up a jeep trail. We camped at 5:05 pm at a low pass, just below some outcrops that provided shelter. We watched cloud shadows on the playa and the Monte Cristo Mountains beyond, then went to bed early.
The next day was sunny, but we still had to hide from the cold wind. There were good flowers in the Candelaria Hills and good lizards too. In the afternoon we crossed the hills to a low pass, then continued west. In late afternoon it began to cloud up and the wind intensified. It looked like we were in for it again so we hurried on. We saw an antelope on a flat near “Pink Cone”, a prominent granite outcrop on the route. The flat below the cone, which had been filled with sheaves of Indian ricegrass in 1999 when I visited, was now mostly Russian thistle, probably trashed by wild horses.
When we got to “Pink Cone”, we could see huge stratocumulus squalls engulfing the Excelsior Mountains to the north, with snow flurries, and we could hear thunder. There was no shelter from the wind, so we headed downstream in a canyon toward some high walls. We found shelter behind a vertical wall of white rhyolite. No wind! Pecked into the wall were petroglyphs, which I hadn’t seen on the reconnaissance. In our zeal to find shelter, these paled into insignificance.
We ate dinner, then once again bedded down early. In the twilight some graupel (soft hail) fell from the stratocumes, hardly enough to dent our tents. This was the only precipitation we recorded in nine days.
After a cold night (35 F.) we set off early in the morning. It was 39 F. when we left. We hiked back up to the route, then across the hills to Gary’s truck, all of it in a brisk breeze. I never took off my long johns. We drove back to the South Trailhead, arriving at 11:00 am. Gary and I spent the rest of the day warming up and reminiscing, while Lasta and Steve drove to Tonopah to do laundry, take a shower and have a hot meal.
This segment tested our mettle, for sure. We carried too much water, a gallon extra each, and I was underclothed with too light a sleeping bag. Much of the hiking was a fight against cold winds and breezes. I was glad the segment was over, but the next segment would tax us in a different way.
Dispatch from Desert Trail Segment F -
Teels Marsh
May 13-14, 2004
By Steve Tabor
By Thursday, May 13, the weather had toned down quite a bit. We set up cars at the North Trailhead near Marietta, then drove to the South Trailhead on Highway 360 to start. We were on the trail by 10:00 am. This would be a short two-day trip, a lot of miles but mostly flat. It was also a light water carry because of abundant springs on the route.
We started down a wash moving west toward the first of the water sources, German Spring. This was a delightful cruise. We moved rapidly, taking a rest stop halfway. Lasta the yoga master did loosening up exercises and a headstand to show us how it’s done. I cringed when I thought of liability, but Steve stood close by to hold her in case she fell over. The weather was pleasant with only a light breeze. We ate lunch under clear skies with long views north over Teels Marsh to the Excelsior Mountain front. On this trip we brought umbrellas to shade ourselves since there was little shelter in the valley.
In the afternoon, we hiked to German Spring, which has an intact cabin and a small pool. Steve found a rattlesnake under the cabin near the door. A blue truck bed mounted on blocks was in the same place it had been in May 1997 on my first visit. Lasta was unnerved by the cowcamp and its derelict condition. I told her it was one of the cleaner ones I’d seen in my thirty years of travel in the West.
Later we walked the road to Company Spring with its large pool of clear water. Someone had put carp in the pool, but it was otherwise unchanged. An old burro came by, obviously miffed that we’d usurped the water. Our swim in the pool was delightful. Air temperature was 80 F., water was 73 F.
We reached Rock House Spring by 6:00 am. This was another easy walk. The rock house was still intact, a roofless four-walled cabin with beautifully fitted stone blocks. There was no water at the rock house, but someone had built a small pool nearby, where three of us supplemented our supply. Travertine mounds on the hills above were loaded with flowers, mostly shooting stars, a species usually found in high mountains. We bedded down at nightfall, swatting pesky gnats, endemic in this valley because of the burros. This is the center of the BLM’s Marietta Wild Burro Range, one of only two nationwide.
In the morning we hiked up over the range of low hills to the north. This part of the route was difficult because my guidebook did not contain adequate information and the trend of the ridges and canyons was confusing. We found our way with careful map and GPS work. If you don’t pick the right canyon here, you’ll end up 90 degrees off course in a different part of the valley. In the revised guidebook, I’ll add a couple of check stations to clarify the route.
We dropped into the canyon to the north on a beautiful burro trail, checking out several springs along the way. We rested at the mouth of the canyon under our umbrellas, then continued north to a row of sand dunes ringing the Teels Marsh playa. Resting there, we continued directly north to “Northwest Pool” at the northwest corner of the playa. This I remembered from my first visit in 1986. It’s a bit more grown in from the sides with cattails and rushes, but the water is still good. We dipped our jugs here, then swam a bit. The bottom was so mucky that I didn’t stay in. The high temperature was 82 F., so the 70 F. water sure felt refreshing. We’d walked a lot of crunchy playa to get there, so we took advantage of the rest and umbrella shade.
In the afternoon, we crossed the north side of the valley on alluvial fans, more or less directly to the cars. I’d miscalculated the position of “Northwest Pool” so I took us too far north. We missed the last spring on the playa edge, which is now fenced. We could see it from a long way off. No matter — at 84 F., we were in a hurry to get to the end of the route. The only treats for us on the last part of the walk were several more sightings of wild burros and some evidence of flash flooding on the fan — one a wash of red soil, the other, a mess of granitic rocks, sand and driftwood. We made it to the cars by 4:30 pm.
The four of us returned to the North Trailhead for a celebration of our making it through five days of hardship together, then Gary left for home. Steve, Lasta and I moved on to Mina where the two of them treated me to a dinner in honor of my work on the Desert trail and on the trips. We called the leaders of the next two batches of segments to touch base and announce our success thus far, then retired to a camp outside Mina where we would prepare for the final segment of the four. It was a great camp, quiet and peaceful. We’d need the rest and energy we’d regain for the 2800-foot climb up the Excelsior Mountains on the next two days.
Dispatch from Desert Trail Segment G -
Excelsior Mountains
May 15-16, 2004
By Steve Tabor
Four more hikers met Steve, Lasta and me in Mina for the Excelsior Mountains Segment hike. We set up a car shuttle on Garfield Flat, then drove to the start point near Marietta where the three of us had left off the afternoon before. The four newbie's had never backpacked with the Survivors before so it promised to be an interesting two days.
The Excelsior route starts in the desert and advances into the trees to an elevation of 7780'. It was muggy when we started hiking at 11:00 am. The sky was covered with Altocumulus and thick Cirrostratus. It “looked like rain” and but the moisture was evaporating as quickly as it fell. The weather mostly translated into sweat as we hiked up the fan. This was a benefit. We didn’t need our umbrellas.
We found good flowers and plenty of lizards in “Trail
Canyon”, our entrance into the mountains. We were followed up by a young man
and a small boy on four-wheelers (“quads”) with buckets on the back. They were
hunting lizards, seeking to capture them for sale to pet shops. They’d already
captured five or six by the time they’d reached us. I noted the blythe spirit
with which the ten-year-old boy drove right over the numerous rabbitbrush plants
growing in the wash. This jeep trail had been little traveled since our
reconnaissance in 1998 and the plants were coming back quite nicely, until now.
We spotted a beautiful collared lizard in the wash. Steve captured it and held it up so we could photograph it. Luckily it did not bite him and hang on like the angry specimen Pierre Edwards had picked up in Death Valley in March. After examining it, we chased it into the bushes so our compatriots downstream wouldn’t get it. They must have been lazy because we ate lunch a mile up the canyon for an hour and they never showed up.
As the afternoon wore on, we were treated to one of those great post-storm periods of cool breezes and fractured cumulus as the cloud cover broke up. Some “storm”! Our hiking was up a pebbly wash under temperatures that barely reached 80 F. We passed a great old mine shack, still intact (not burned down) since 1998 (and probably forty years before). We checked out the old corral at Mile 4.4. It was actually above wash level, necessitating a revision in the guidebook. Lasta did some work alleviating the girdling of some juniper trees by the barbed wire fence. By Mile 5.0 we were in the trees, relaxing in the shade. This part of the route was free of the wheel tracks that we’d noted in 1998; it was going back to the wild.
We knocked off early at Mile 5.6, having come up almost 2000 feet from the valley floor. This was the camp I’d envisioned, with smooth beds for tents and sleeping pads, under and behind tall trees for shade from the afternoon sun. The route gets steep just above and nobody wanted to do it, including me. We’d save that work for the morning. We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, chatting and swatting the gnats that had followed us up from the Marietta Wild Burro Range below. After sixty-six miles of desert, it seemed so strange to be in the trees. I was lulled to sleep by breezes in the pines. It was a little bit of mountain heaven on this long Desert Trail.
In the morning we did a long uphill on a steep eroded bulldozer track. We rose quickly. The track ended at 7700', where we found the old U.S. Army trail that once linked Mina and Marietta. This was a great old Sierra-style hiking trail with a solid tread and an easy gradient. By 10:00 am we’d reached the pass at 7780', where we rested, then we hiked east across the beautiful gassy swale that extends across the crest for nearly a mile. This is surrounded by dense pinyon woods growing on tall ridges. It’s grown to rabbitbrush, sagebrush and tall wild rye. This was a joy to walk, because it is so unique, so different from anything else on the DT.
A the east end, we dropped down a horse trail, probably the wrong one because we ended up in the woods without a tread and had to hike downstream. Later we found the trail again and hiked it down to “Lion Spring”, so called because we’d seen mountain lion tracks before. There was water here, though only a trickle. We replenished our supply. We spent some time watching birds: grosbeaks, juncos, house finches, flickers and towhees, even a robin.
The rest of the route was a long walk down a jeep trail, downcanyon to Garfield Flat. The day was cool and breezy. We stopped at Pepper Spring to check out the water, then hiked down into the valley where our cars were waiting. Craig Deutsche, leader for the next two segments, was there too. We drank cold drinks and Steve drew up a proclamation in honor of our accomplishment — 75 miles on the Desert Trail. It was signed by all the participants and presented to me. We put it in a water bottle and installed it in the trailhead cairn to be marveled at by all who pass through here on the Desert Trail forevermore. Then we scrambled to get everybody back into their cars and on their way to new beginnings.
Steve and Lasta remained with Craig to do the next two segments. Their plan was to continue on with Dave Holten and Grant Blocher on the following two as well. That will make 170 miles for each of them. Steve is planning to continue even farther. You’ll read about those adventures in subsequent dispatches.
Meanwhile the GPS record goes on. It will be interesting to see what the Trail looks like and what its true mileages are. Watch this space for more dispatches soon.