2005 Nevada Desert Trail Dispatches
Leader – John Wilkinson
Reported by Lawrence Wilson
Segment Y – Pahute Peak Backpack
June 1-3 2005
Other Participants – Kevin Kingma & Lawrence Wilson
Starting at a little after 9.00 from the southern trailhead in the north west arm of the Black Rock Desert it was an easy hike along a jeep trail towards our first water crossing. Having scouted it out the previous afternoon we were quickly through a little dense undergrowth & wading up to our knees across Mud Meadow Creek. A jeep trail on the other side presented more easy walking and we soon reached an intersection with the historic Applegate Trail used by immigrants headed for California in the nineteenth century. A little further on we came upon a small rattlesnake by the road. Eventually we arrived at the mouth of the small canyon that was to lead us up into the mountains. We sat in an idyllic spot in hot sunshine by the proverbial ‘babbling brook’ relaxing and eating our lunch watch by a sage grouse in the rocks above.
In the afternoon we followed the creek upwards for a while, in the process negotiating an eighteen foot high waterfall, before collecting some water. Not long after we climbed up the right hand side of the canyon, paralleling it from high up until about 15.30, when still in bright sunshine, we reached a spring and an old prospectors cabin whose mud roof had largely collapsed. From there we took a horse trail & when we came upon a large ‘flat’ area we decided to camp at around 17.00. After a rest we hiked up to the ridge line above for some great views southwards down along the Black Rock Desert to the small triangular peak by Trego. Later, after dinner, we watched the sunset from a little knoll above the camp.
The next morning we were off by 8.00, continuing along the horse trail we had been on the previous afternoon up onto the ‘ridge’ above. We hiked along the ridge for the rest of the morning, steadily and relentlessly climbing upwards. Down on the Black Rock Desert the small triangular peak at Trego could be seen clearly reflected in the large lake that had formed across the desert floor. We were subject to a number of light snow and rain showers as we progressed. Eventually we hit a jeep trail & followed it for a while. We came upon twenty or more wild horses near a snow bank where we collected a little snow for later refreshment. A few of the horses were very curious & came back to check us out. Some of the slopes seemed to go on upwards for ever, with always one more little rise ahead. By 14.00 we had all reached the summit of Pahute Peak at 8,694 feet, a climb of over 3,000 feet since we had started that morning.
We were all pretty knackered and huddled around the large stone cairn at the peak to try to shelter from the biting wind. The views were terrific in all directions, you really felt like you’d achieved something by climbing the peak. However, the cold wind eventually drove us down after we’d taken some photos and deposited a Desert Trail branded peak register protected in its weather resistant peanut butter jar shell. In the original non-branded peak register we discovered that the last name entered was in fact that of our illustrious leader, John Wilkinson, who was on the peak previously almost exactly a year ago to the very day. My attempts to offload my eight day old ‘Trader Joes’ Disraeli & Gladstone British Muffins to fellow hikers proved as unsuccessful as my ongoing mission to offload my mouthwatering packets of ramen noodles.
At 14.50 we began our descent, part of which was really nasty and steep over loose rocks, to a little rocky knoll. But this had looked far easier than the recommended route, described in ‘the desert trail guide’, which ran to our right. Below large stands of aspen trees was ‘Horse Spring’ at check station 15, which we reached at 15.40. Here we found a good flow of water from a pipe from whence we replenished our water supplies. An hour later we reached a further spring, ‘Running Water Spring’, at check station 16. Nearby was another spring, ‘Trough Spring’, where a plastic pipe had been added since John Wilkinson’s previous visit in 2004, and made collecting water very easy for us hikers. We camped a short distance away by some rocky outcrops. I, for one, was completely washed out after the day’s exertions and spent an hour or so crashed out on my back gazing into the sky, a little alcohol adding to my state of total inertia.
The next morning there was frost on the foot of my
sleeping bag and camping mat. Our illustrious leader was chomping at the bit
ready to leave a good hour or more before I could muster the wherewithal to get
going, but by 8.00 we had hit the jeep trail again. Topping up with water from
the nearby ‘Trough Spring’ we followed the jeep trail until we dropped into a
gorgeous canyon, named ‘Color Canyon’ by Steve Tabor in his ‘trail’ guide.
Filling our water containers proved to be unnecessary, though, as there was
water flowing all the way down the this flower filled canyon. We crossed &
re-crossed the creek as it lead us down to the floor of Black Rock Desert. We
took a number of rest stops in the bright sunshine just to enjoy our idyllic
surroundings and be thankful that Steve Tabor had found such an amazing little
route down out of the mountains. Back on the desert floor it was simply a
question of walking across to the other side of this arm of the Black Rock
Desert where a vehicle was waiting for us at the northern trailhead. The only
impediment was some thick undergrowth in Mud Meadow Wash where I managed to
loose one of the detachable legs from my pants after re-crossing Mud Meadow
Creek, and now looked even sillier than usual. Our vehicle was reached by 13.15,
thus completing a very enjoyable few days of backpacking.
June 4-5 2005
Participants, Co-Leaders & General Good Eggs:
David Oline (Oregon) & Lawrence Wilson (Brighton, England)
This segment started in exciting manner when the official leader of this unofficial DS trip, John Wilkinson, shredded two tyres on his RAV4 on a dirt road whilst setting up the initial car shuttle. The single spare tyre left the RAV4 somewhat mobility challenged. Luckily the only passing four wheeled vehicle that morning gave David Oline a ride back to his truck, & he was then able to drive the three of us to the local metropolis of Gerlach. Here John Wilkinson bailed out of the backpack to try and resuscitate his vehicle. Overcoming the challenge of the antiquated third world public phone system one finds in this country a distress call was made to mission control in Sparks, Nevada. Dave Holten manning the helpdesk rose valiantly to the occasion & readily agreed to meet the two remaining backpackers at the northern trailhead at 17.00 on the following day. However, he was most insistent on warning us of the rocks, the size of cars, strewn across the floor of Box canyon in several places. His warning proved to be most apt.
The backpack thus commenced several hours later than originally planned at 15.35. By 19.05, though, we were roughly only half mile short of our original planned camping spot at mile 6.0 where side canyons came in from both the north & south of Box Canyon. The first two and a half miles had been easy walking, mainly along jeep trails until a game guzzler, primarily for birds, was reached. After this the canyon narrowed & soon we saw how accurate Dave Holton's description had been. Huge rock falls covered the sides of the canyon, and rocks the size of cars, and even Dave's truck, blocked our way across the canyon floor. There was no easy discernable route through, so we had to do the best we could, encumbered as we were by our backpacks, clambering over, round & between these impediments. No sooner had we negotiated one obstacle course, than we seemed to come upon another. Our progress was further complicated by thick undergrowth amongst the rocks. This was not exactly my idea of a fun way to spend a Saturday evening, even in deepest darkest Nevada, but we persevered. By 19.00 we were beginning to tire, but as luck would have it we came upon a few openings in the brush just large enough to pitch a tent, so we decided to call it a day and camp close to a running stream.
By 7.30 the following morning our two intrepid Desert Survivors were on their way again, unperturbed by the further imminent difficulties foretold in the 'desert trail guide'. Unforeseen challenges soon presented themselves though, namely two 'lakes' running almost completely across the canyon floor. These lakes had not existed during the drier conditions of the route reconnaissance, but we managed to skirt them on their left hand sides, in places hacking through some unfriendly rose bushes & clambering on loose rocks in the process. The brown water of the second lake looked especially uninviting, no doubt coloured in part by the abundant nearby horse droppings. Several more rockfalls across the canyon floor were negotiated before the final ascent of the rockfall at the head of Box Canyon. This proved to be not so daunting as I had imagined, and by 10.05 we had climbed up it and were relaxing in the sunshine and enjoying a gentle breeze. The rest of the ascent involved easy walking, except for the spot where David Oline tried to headbutt the ground, and an hour later we were gazing down onto the dried out bed of High Rock Lake.
Following a dry creek bed and horse trail lead us down to the lakeshore in another twenty minutes. We cut across the lakebed towards some abandoned cabins, but soon 'detoured' to our left for a closer look at a mass of yellow flowers. The vistas from the lakebed of the surrounding mountains were outstanding in every direction. We continued on to an assortment of old abandoned ranch buildings all in a general state of disrepair and suffering from much vandalism. Having taken some photos we followed the historic wagon road come jeep trail to the northern trailhead at the mouth of High Rock Canyon. In this way mile 13.0 was reached at 13.25. We lunched and hung out for a couple of hours in this beautiful spot and even speculated if we would get rained on, until our saviour, Dave Holten, arrived. He ferried Dave Oline back to his truck at the southern trailhead, and myself to Sparks where I was generously showered, fed and accommodated for the night before being dropped off at the Reno Greyhound bus station the following morning to journey on to San Francisco.
Meanwhile, our erstwhile leader and companion John Wilkinson had spent a sobering weekend partaking in the many delights of Gerlach before the inspired efforts of a local BLM ranger enabled him to make his escape and limp back to the Bay Area in his vehicle. The Desert Relay was still on course, thanks primarily to the sterling efforts of Dave Holten who spent many hours of his Sunday driving several hundred miles across the wilds of Northern Nevada to collect us from the northern trailhead.