2005 Nevada Desert Trail Dispatches
5/16/05 Sunday. It’s 11:00 p.m. before I pick up Lawrence Wilson in San Francisco. Talk about dedication to the Desert Trail! Lawrence has flown 6,000 miles from Brighton, U.K., the day before in order to hike several of the DT sections. We stop about 45 minutes to sleep sitting up at a roadside rest, then drive through the night to the Toulon exit near Lovelock, Nevada.
5/17/05 Monday, 5:30 a.m. I throw my bag on the ground despite a light rain. Lawrence prefers the cramped front seat of the Jeep. At 7:30 a.m. we drive to Lovelock for gas and a breakfast sandwich from McDonalds. When we return to the meeting place Kevin Kingma and Jerry and Stacy Goss are waiting. We wait briefly for Francisco Santos, but at 9:30 Kevin and I follow Jerry on the very muddy Ragged Top Road to the trailhead where we meet Spencer Berman.
Jerry drives Spencer to the shuttle end point. An icy wind is blowing so hard it’s difficult to stand. Dark clouds threaten a downpour and it looks like a bad start. We begin hiking about 11:00 a.m. into the wind toward the Sahwave Range. When we reach the fault scarp at the mouth of Bob Spring Canyon, Lawrence suggests we stop for lunch. No sooner have we dropped our packs than the rain begins to pour and changes quickly to hail. Since we can’t eat lunch in the hail we hike up canyon until there’s a break in the weather. Rain and hail continue throughout the afternoon. We put rain gear on, then take it off, then put it on again. The canyon turns into a series of dry falls, which require climbing hand over hand. I’m very tired from little sleep and Lawrence has turned pale and is feeling queasy. Later we attribute this to mild altitude sickness, since he’s made the jump from near sea level in England to over 7,000 feet in one day.
By late afternoon we reach the upper end of the canyon on the flank of Juniper Mountain, the highest peak in the Sahwave Range. We had hoped to place a Desert Trail peak register on the summit but it requires another 1,300 feet of climbing and darkness will overtake us before we can get back. But mostly we’re exhausted from climbing in the rain and hail all day.
We round the ridge below the peak, then drop into a valley hiking to “Cutbank Spring.” The water is less than appetizing, so we leave and hike up the valley to a stand of Junipers and make camp. Five of us huddle behind a large Juniper for a shield from the relentless wind. As soon as dinner is done, and before dark, all of us are under shelter to sleep. A light rain falls during the night.
5/17/05 Tuesday. I’m still tired and sleep late. The sky is dark but the wind has calmed. We begin hiking about 9:00 a.m. climbing up the narrowing canyon to a spur below the ridge. There are great views to the east toward Granite Springs Valley. If anyone feels badly about missing the climb to Juniper Peak, it isn’t mentioned. Our route is cross-country skirting jagged rock outcrops below the ridge. We climb Peak 2259, which is not on the route, but gives impressive us views of the Selenite Mountains and Kumiva Valley to the west. Kumiva Peak in the Selenite Range seems impossibly steep. To the north we can see our next objective, Black Mountain in the Bluewing Range. Below to the west we see an inviting cabin tucked into a canyon.
We head down toward a water source Steve Tabor calls “Big Bank Spring.” A water seep comes from the canyon amidst willows trampled with hoof prints of burros and cattle. Kevin pumps water from a small pool that appears relatively free of hoof prints as we stop for lunch. Nearby is the real “Big Bank Spring,” a shallow pool several feet in diameter. A blood filled burro hoof depression along the side of the pool discourages us from taking water.
We leave the canyon and follow a contour at an elevation of about 5,600 feet and try to identify Steve Tabor’s landmarks, “Spooky Tooth,” “Embayment”, “Tower,” and “Capitol Rock.” His description of the rock he renamed “The Tower” is particularly puzzling until we are well beyond it.
We pass by Capitol Rock and finally reach a crest between two peaks that Steve Tabor calls “North Pass” and begin the descent into the valley. In the distance 1,200 feet below can see Jerry’s and Spencer’s trucks at the Juniper Pass Trailhead. We hike in a broad wash and meet Jerry Goss hiking toward us over a low hill. When we reach the cars Jerry offers cold beer and chips with salsa - a real treat since the day has warmed up considerably. We retrieve my jeep from the Granite Springs Valley Trailhead and say goodbye to Kevin Kingma who has to return to work the next day.
Back at the Juniper Pass Trailhead amid budsage, shadscale, and hopsage, Jerry has prepared a delicious dinner of spaghetti with black olives, bread and salad. Sure beats trail food! Cloud cover was dark but we had only a brief sprinkle during the night.
5/18/05 Wednesday. Today we’ll do the Black Mountain ascent. The approach seems wrong. The peak rises sharply to the west, but the hike is north along the west side of the Sahwave Range. The weather is cool and overcast as we hike two hours up the gradual slope of the wash. Finally our course turns sharply left. The Black Mountain Segment is rated moderate so we don’t expect the climb to be difficult, but it is an imposing peak that looms darkly above us. The grade gets steeper as we get closer.
After a steep climb we stop for lunch on the ridge of a spur. The Tabor route is clearly defined and will turn north as we ascend. But we have a peak register to place on the mountain and I decide to alter our course to take us directly west to the peak rather than winding northwesterly and backtracking south to the summit. We wind around the south flank of a lesser peak then climb the steep spine on the north side of the mountain. I am, not surprisingly, the last to reach the top where Spencer Berman and Stacy Goss are trying to re-erect an old wooden antenna. No sooner do they have it in place than it falls to the ground. We write our names in the peak register and survey the Kumiva Valley below, looking back over the Sahwave range where we spent the last two days. The wind is very strong and makes walking difficult so we don’t linger on the peak, but descend around the west side of the next peak and walk along the ridge of the Bluewing Mountains. The wind is constant and dust storms rage on the playas below us to the east and west.
In two hours we see a patch of green in a saddle that marks our way out to the playa below. There are three springs in the canyon with water at each one. The first is a patch of light colored grass with a seep of water trickling down canyon. We read in the guidebook of better water below so we move on. The canyon runs due west to the flat playa of Kumiva Valley. The main spring is choked with willows. I make the mistake of trying to go down on the south side but have to bushwhack through the thickly tangled riparian undergrowth which leaves my hands bloody. The others have wisely kept to the north side of the canyon. Below the confluence we find a few small rocky pools and refill our water containers. It’s a pleasant place, green and cool, with the sound of running water that’s always welcome in the desert. We continue down canyon. Near the canyon mouth is another spring, not so inviting but often used by wildlife. Tracks of burros, horses, pronghorn antelope, and cattle are abundant. Just above the greenish pool of water is a hunting blind made of wire fencing with brush affixed to its sides and on top. We pass on and since the hour is late find a campsite on the sandy alluvial fan overlooking the immense Kumiva Lake playa. Clouds have dissipated but the threat of rain remains so we put up tents and tarps. The mood is more festive than the previous two nights, perhaps because the weather is clear or because we’re not as tired as before. We gather in a small circle in the wash to cook and eat. Stacy thinks the wind on Black Mountain made it harder than the Sahwave Range, but the rest of us feel it was easier. After dark, a candle lantern serves in place of a campfire. We share stories and sip tequila. It’s nearly 10:00 p.m. before we head for our sleeping bags.
5/19/05 Thursday. I wake late and can see the others having breakfast in the wash below. By the time we’re hiking it’s nearly 9:30 a.m. Today’s hike will be eleven miles and entirely flat, mostly along the side of the dry lake. Spencer chooses to walk along the low dunes at the western shoreline while Lawrence, Stacy and I hike on the dead flat playa surface. We find a number of rocks on the surface and wonder how they got there. Were they windblown as on Death Valley’s Racetrack, or is there another explanation? We find a few survey markers including one defining a range-township section corner. There is a set of wheel tracks that the map shows as the continuation of a road. At one point I look back and see Lawrence laying on the ground and wonder if I should go back to see if he’s O.K. But he’s resting against his pack with his legs crossed and looks comfortable so I continue and catch up with Stacy to suggest we make a lunch stop. Since our course is headed toward the shoreline she suggests we stop there. It seems logical and I agree. To the south we see a vehicle coming driving through the low hills that border the playa. In the distance it looks like a jeep but as it gets closer we realize it is Jerry Goss. He drives onto the playa and we chat briefly then continue along the double-track to the playa edge for a lunch stop.
When Lawrence arrives he announces that we have to start taking regular breaks. At first I think he’s joking, but quickly realize he’s serious and not at all pleased with the trip leader. I always think Lawrence is strong as a horse and can’t imagine him getting tired. Lunch is quiet. I apologize and announce we will begin taking hourly breaks. We bid goodbye to Jerry and begin hiking south to the southern extremity of the playa. Behind us the mass of Black Mountain looms like a giant, dwarfing everything below. Tomorrow we’ll have a different picture.
We finally reach the south end of the playa and head due west through greasewood, budsage, and shadscale. There is a herd of burros to the south and a pair of pronghorns directly ahead. Both groups of animals watch us from the distance. The burros trot off out of sight. The pronghorns move every few minutes not allowing us to get any closer. Except for the animals the straight trek across the flat is monotonous. When we can see our trucks in the distance it seems to make the walking easier. When we reach the vehicles Jerry is again there with cold beer and chips. He makes dinner as well, pitas filled with corn and beans flavored with peppers along with a salad. I could get used to this kind of hiking. Over dinner we talk about tomorrow’s climb up Kumiva Peak. It's 2,700 feet to the ridge and the steepness is abundantly clear from our vantage point. Lawrence sets his tent and I put up my tarp between trekking poles. The others sleep in their trucks.
5/19/05 Friday. We’re up early today. We shuttle Spencer’s truck and my Jeep to the trailhead at Kumiva Pass. The creek along the road is flowing full. Jerry reports that yesterday morning the road was impossibly muddy. But a day of sun and wind has dried the surface to make travel easy. We wait at the trailhead hoping Bob Flett will find us. Jerry says there hasn’t been a car on this road all week, but this morning there are four. I think each one is going to be Bob Flett, but it’s just ranchers and the road grader.
By 10:00 a.m. we decide not to wait any longer and begin the hike. It’s five and a half miles to the base of the mountain before we can start climbing. At least that part should be easy. Most of the clouds have gone. It may even be hot today. Except for our first day of rain and hail in the Sahwaves the weather has been good, neither to hot, nor too cold. So many plants are in bloom, purple larkspur, blue lupine, red Indian paintbrush, and lots of smaller flowers. The mountainsides are bright yellow from the sunflower-like blooms of arrow leafed balsam root.
As we head nearly due west we begin to notice the ground is wet. Ahead a large brown object blocks our path. The steer jumps up, surprised by our intrusion, and stands in a defensive posture. I shift slightly left, a move that will cause us to miss our next waypoint. We begin to hear running water and move further south toward the sound. It’s a small steady flow that’s strong enough to carry sand and gravel with it. The flow is good, two to three gallons per minute. The streambed is new and shallow, not deeply eroded. The tiny creek is unexpected, not mentioned in the guidebook, but intriguing so we follow it. It leads us to the foot of the mountain. We cross a road near a parked yellow grader. Pershing County road crews have been busy since the storms arrived. We enter a recess in the mountain front looking for Redwood Spring. We find a bright green meadow with running water. There is a long trough filled to overflowing with water but mostly covered with algae. A small pipe extends out of the bank spewing a steady flow of water. This will be our lunch break. Spencer scrapes the algae away and fills his water bags. The rest of us follow suit. Spencer declines to treat the water, but I play it safe and add iodine. I follow the main flow up canyon to its source a quarter mile above the meadow amid rocky outcrops and willow thickets.
Meanwhile back at lunch camp we ponder. This is clearly not Redwood Spring. I conclude that the steer moved us south off our course so we’ve arrived at “Pipe Spring.” Spencer believes we’re north of the mark, and thinks Redwood Spring lies ahead to the south. Tabor described a twelve-foot diameter trough at Redwood Spring and the presence of cattle. There are no cattle and no circular tank, but this spring seems to fit the description of “Pipe Spring.”
We follow a jeep road over to the next canyon to the south. At the mouth of the next canyon is a nine-foot diameter tank of water. Could this be the elusive Redwood Spring? Did Steve Tabor miss-measure the tank? But this tank appears to be fairly new and was probably installed since Steve’s reconnaissance trip. The rest of his description fits as we follow the jeep road up canyon to another grassy meadow that is wet enough for mud to stick to our boots. This spring, which shows on the map was described as dry in the guidebook. We’re on track and continue up the canyon. When the canyon opens up we stop and admire the view down to Kumiva Lake. Black Mountain still dominates the horizon beyond the playa. We’ve climbed 900 feet from the base of the mountain and still have 600 feet to go to reach the saddle. The canyon opens to a broad saddle but is dense with brush making movement difficult. The four of us try different routes through the tangle. Lawrence finds the quickest way and we can see him waving to us twenty minutes before we reach him. Beyond the dense brush we talk about alternatives. The saddle is still 200 feet above and promises to be extremely windy. The mountain ridge is another 1,200 feet above the saddle and will take about two hours to climb. We decide to camp below on a Juniper clad spur. It’s a beautiful spot with a dozen weathered Junipers and wonderful views of Nightingale valley to the south, Black Mountain and Kumiva Flat to the northeast and the Sahwave Range due east. We can visually trace our path of the last four days. Cold gusts of wind blast through our camp. Each of us finds space beneath a Juniper to find shelter from the chill wind. The clouds have mostly cleared and it’s the first night without a clear threat of rain so none of us will use tents tonight. Tucked in a niche beneath a Juniper it’s the best night’s sleep yet.
5/20/05 Saturday morning is bright and clear. This will be our last full day of hiking. We have 1,500 feet to climb to the ridge but no one seems anxious. The first part, 300 feet to the saddle is easy enough, but then it seems the way is straight up. This is the first time on this trip I’m glad to have trekking poles. With each step up the pack pulls your body down and back. The poles allow the arms to do some of the pulling, counteracting the eccentric force of the pack. Climbing the steep slope is easier than I expected, until we reach the rock slabs, which have to be climbed hand over hand, or backtracking to find another route.
In the rocks I can’t see the others. 700 feet above the saddle the ridge flattens out briefly and after some time we’re together again and take a welcome break. We continue climbing the remaining 500 feet to the first peak. The Junipers have disappeared. It’s too high and too cold above 8,000 feet. The ridge is bare and windswept. The scene below to the east has undergone a dramatic transformation. Black Mountain, which dominated our view the past two days, has now become a minor landmark, dwarfed by the immensity of Kumiva Flat. Ahead along the ridge is Kumiva Peak, at 8,237 feet, the highest point in seven days. When we reach the peak we write in the new Desert Trail Peak Register. We also read and sign the register placed by Sierra Club. The most recent entry is more than two years old. This range gets few visitors. We find entries from other survivor trips, Bob Ellis in 1994 and Steve Tabor in 1998. I re-pile the rocks to make a cairn with a recess to hold the two registers. In the distance we can see Kumiva Pass and three tiny specks which are our trucks. I signal to Jerry with a signal mirror.
We stay along the ridge for most of the afternoon stopping only for lunch and to admire the view. To the south we can see Purgatory Peak and beyond it Winnemucca Dry Lake. To the west is the San Emedio Desert. To the north we can see the villages of Empire and Gerlach and the Black Rock Desert beyond. To the east are the Sahwave and Blue Wing Mountains and Kumiva Valley.
We reach the final summit in this part of the Selenites. Far below is a green patch we know to be a meadow with running water. It’s a difficult drop down the steep spur. The meadow is less pristine than advertised, littered with cow pies, some cattle bones and two shovels, perhaps left here to remove cow dung. After a long break at the meadow we hike along the creek below searching for running water. Everyone is a bit skeptical about drinking the green tinted water from the meadow. Despite the green color, Spencer reports that the taste is good, well maybe not good, but at least palatable. We leave the canyon and cross to another drainage to begin our search for “Twin Juniper Saddle.” It proves elusive.
We find a forest of junipers on a saddle with good flat ground and decide to stay. I drop my pack and hike to the ridge. Below, about a mile as the crow flies, are the trucks at Kumiva Pass. We’re still looking for “Twin Juniper Saddle,” but there are too many Junipers in every direction to qualify. The weather is clear so there will be no tents tonight. We sit in a circle for communal dinner as we have for the past five nights, recounting our travel. Just after getting in my sleeping bag I hear something nearby and sit up. The animal, whatever it was, darts away in a flash. In the morning we find fresh deer and mountain lion tracks.
5/21/05 Sunday. We’re awake earlier than usual for our final trail meal. By 7:30 a.m. we’re hiking through the Junipers over the last ridge heading for the pass. As for most of the trip we follow deer or burro trails when possible, but much of the hiking is simply cross-country dodging sagebrush, greasewood, and rabbitbush. As we near the trucks we can see Jerry walking along the road to meet us. We hike the final half-mile together. At the trailhead Spencer leaves first on a long drive to Ventura. It’s time for real food (like biscuits and gravy). Lawrence, Stacy, Jerry and I head for Bruno’s in Gerlach for brunch.