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Echo Canyon winds its way easily up into the Funeral Range. It’s easily passable by any truck based 4x4. On our trip, a two-wheel-drive vehicle could have made it, except for one spot at the mouth of the canyon where the road dropped into a hole with a couple of bedrock boulders in it. Just enough to cause the chassis to flex, lifting up each tire off the ground as our vehicles passed by it. Along the way is the Eye of the Needle, a triangular hole in a large thumb of rock projecting up from the canyon floor. Continuing up the canyon we started driving through swarms of wasps or hornets that flew with their abdomens downward as if they were flying straight up. They came in through my open windows, making driving and swatting at the wasps an interesting exercise in dexterity. Just below the Inyo Mine complex the canyon splits into two forks. Our road took us up to the Inyo Mine, where we set up camp for the night.

Reilly townsite.

Reilly townsite.

The Panamint Daisies in Wildrose Canyon.

Alan Patera fixes lunch at a roadside table at Furnace Creek Ranch.

Running along Highway 190 through Furnace Creek Wash.

My 1996 Chevrolet S-10 4WD pickup in Echo Canyon. The Eye of the Needle is directly over the top of the camper shell, although in this afternoon light the hole is difficult to see.

Alan Hensher examines the engine setup at the Inyo Mine camp. This engine likely drove various machinery in a mill and other facilities, possibly also generating electrical power for the camp and dwellings.

A closeup of the engine at the Inyo Mine.

Ore loading facility, which dropped ores to be reduced into the small reduction mill.

Inyo Mine camp.

Inyo Mine camp.

Inyo Mine camp.

Inyo Mine camp.

Alan Patera (left) and Alan Hensher tackle setting up Alan Hensher's tent at the Inyo Mine camp. Alan Patera slept in his Ford Explorer up hill from my truck, I slept in the back of my Chevrolet pickup.

Inyo Mine camp and my pickup/campsite.

While I was eating my supper, the sun dropped below the clouds and near the horizon and bathed the Inyo Mine camp as well as ours in a golden glow. My camp is seen here.

The Inyo Mine camp as seen in the last of the day's sunshine.

The Inyo Mine camp after the sun dropped behind the Panamint Range in the distance and across Death Valley.

Alan Patera shares something historic from a notebook of old newspaper clippings contemporary with the activities at the Inyo Mine camp.

Alan Hensher cooks up his supper on my tailgate Coleman stove.

"I think Alan has the radio figured out. I found out why he didn’t hear me when I called him, Alan Hensher was sitting on it."

"Alan Hensher tends to chatter ceaselessly. Spouting off facts and figures and ... uh opinions about different towns, etcetera."

"[To Alan Hensher:] -- Hey, here you go! Take your business cards and nail it to the bulletin board. -- [Alan Patera: 'Yeah, that’s right!'] [Alan Hensher: 'Ok. Oh, don’t go doing that, it will disturb the context of area archaeology and screw up the archaeologists!']" ~ At ruins of Reilly townsite and Anthony Mill.

"Up to this point Alan Hensher has been rather humorless. Him and Alan have been making all kinds of cracks as they were going here and there. Making jokes about uh ... 'Oh this is the Reilly Whorehouse. Oh, did you see the postage stamps and the mail bags on the floor of the post office.” Etcetera.

"I’m beginning to think we could call this the 'Misadventures of Motorola Radios.' First they got sat on, then it was dropped, and now it got sat on again. I told Alan Hensher that I don’t want them sat on again, because I don’t want any anal comments out of him!"

"I’m not going to be the tough guy this time. I’ve got the air conditioner on going down the hill from Reilly."

"As I was talking to Alan, a Rolls Royce drives by. I thought, boy! That’s the car to take into the back country!"

"If we weren’t sitting on the side of the road, I’d like a nice, cold beer right now."

"Got a lot of black wasps or hornets that fly with their abdomens down. They look like ... oh, some type of cartoonish bombs being dropped. And they fly that way ... and they’re threatening to come into the cab. Which would not be a fun thing. Try to drive and swat wasps."

"Got some extra protein in my water. Got some gnats."

Morning camp at the Inyo Mine.

I arose early and long before the two Alan’s. I busied myself with coffee, a bath and cleaning up camp, while they snored away in their respective abodes nearby. Breakfast consisted of sausage, hashbrowns and eggs.

The others were up by 7:00 A.M., each setting about fixing their morning meals and organizing their camps in preparation to go explore the real Schwab ghost town, located in the next canyon north of the Inyo Mine. We were off and running by 8:30.

The road that runs through Schwab is blocked off below and above, requiring us to walk about a half mile. It was a leisurely walk downhill along the wash to the site of Schwab. Alan Patera and I were dressed for the part, but Alan Hensher, being the adventurer that he is, made the trip in shorts and sandals; he had brought no other shoes along with him.

Almost all publications I’ve read say that the site of Schwab is completely erased from the earth, but the two Alan’s and I found lots of little interesting items that lay scattered about the site, situated at the confluence of two canyons in a wide, gravelly wash. As we walked down from our trucks, we began to find at first prospect scratchings, then cans, then as we hit the site of Schwab scattered lumber debris. At the first building site, located on the wash floor, we found two wooden crosses indicating graves. This surprised us, since none of us had read anything about deaths and burials in Schwab. One cross read: "Death Valley Victim - 1907," but the condition of the wood and lettering indicated a date much later that this cross was planted. As we fanned out around the first building site we came to, we found what appeared to be the main townsite located upon a bench on the northern side of the canyon. A wood lined cellar, remains of bottles, broken crockery, cans, square stone footings, stone walls dropping off the bench into the wash, stone outlines of tent sites all lay along the bench.

All too soon, we three regrouped. Alan Hensher dryly quipped that the population of Schwab was "in the millions" – millions of ants. He had a bad time of it as he gingerly stepped in bare, sandaled feet through the streets and lots of Schwab - everywhere he stepped he encountered ant holes with countless ants crawling up his legs, spiny sage that scratched his legs and feet, and the ever present cholla cactus, which zeroed in on his toes.

Schwab ghost town site.

Is this grave real?

Schwab.

Eye of the Needle in Echo Canyon.

Our two vehicle caravan proceeded down Echo Canyon to the Death Valley floor. Our trip itinerary was not well defined and Alan Patera and I spoke over the radios several ideas of destinations as we traveled down the twisting canyon. Thoughts of camping in higher thus cooler locations were discussed. Alan Patera, being from Oregon and thus still not acclimated to warmer temperatures that we were having, was getting a pretty intense headache from the heat. It was pleasant at Schwab due to its higher elevation, but at Furnace Creek we were hitting 100º. Alan was having thoughts about camping at Chloride Cliff in the Funerals, or Mahogany Flats in the Panamint Range. As I turned on my air conditioner near the valley floor, the thought occurred to me to head for the northernmost part of Death Valley, where elevations gradually climb up and over 6,000 feet in the Gold Point, Nevada region. Neither Alan had ever visited that vicinity, so we pointed our grills northward.

Wildflowers were blooming profusely as we climbed in elevation approaching the north end of the valley. We stopped at the site of Sand Spring, once a gas station and store to service travelers to the short lived 1920s rush at nearby Skookum. Turned northeast at Crankshaft Crossing. Relief that the Park Service had not removed the sign. We took the road east, then north up into Tule Canyon, stopping at the site of Roosevelt. I noted that the standing cabin appeared to be on the verge of collapse. The Aero Motor windmill had been damaged by vandals, the water tank dry and vegetation around it dead. Leaving Roosevelt, we decided to go over to Stateline, Nevada to camp at its higher elevation. On the way we stopped at Gold Point so I could introduce the two Alans to Herb Robbins.

Sand Spring.

Crankshaft Junction.

Site of Roosevelt in Tule Canyon.

Site of Roosevelt in Tule Canyon.

Well drilling rig in Tule Canyon.

Herb and a crew were extending the saloon building. Herb asked me to take the two Alans on a tour of the town’s buildings. After, we all had a shot of cinnamon schnapps with a beer chaser in the saloon. Then we head off to Stateline.

Expansion of the saloon at Gold Point.

Alan and Alan discussing camp setup plans.

My Stateline camp spot.

Sunset at Stateline.

Faint ruins at Schwab.

Faint ruins along what might have been the main street of Schwab.

Building site along what might have been the main street of Schwab.

Ruins at San Spring.

Site of Roosevelt City, in Tule Canyon, Nevada.

Blooming cactus at site of small mill at Roosevelt City, Tule Canyon, Nevada.

My camp at site of Stateline, Nevada. View southwest into Death Valley and Last Chance Range.

My camp at Stateline, Nevada.

Alan Hensher (foreground) and Alan Patera enjoy the view from my camp at Stateline, Nevada.

Looking toward Alan Patera's camp at the headframe of the Stateline Mine.

"It’s twenty minutes until nine. We’re going to head on down to Schwab. We’re going to walk. A half mile, if that far. ... Come back to the truck again to get my canteen. ... I’m thinking about all my electronic crap and not even thinking about my personal needs."

"Ten minutes until ten. We’re going to leave Schwab. Alan said the population of Schwab is now in the millions. Millions of ants. We’re finding ant piles everywhere."

"I’m happy we found Schwab. There’s definitely more ruins there then there were at Echo. It was gratifying to find it."

"One makes you wonder what brought people up this way to begin with. And then later to attract three women, who then tried to put a muzzle on things men like to do out in the boonies." ~ Referring to the town of Schwab during its heyday.

"Yeah, I see [Alan Patera] parked in the overhang there. [To Alan on radio:] – I see you now, Alan. Parked in that shade. -- [Alan on radio: 'I’m strategically placed here.']"

"Leaving Furnace Creek. ... See if I can keep from mowing down a hundred tourists here."

"Hopefully this is the Oriental Wash road. Coming around the backside of the … aaaaaaah! ... Now the road is closed over here. One of those wilderness areas. Foot traffic only. ... Ok. Back on the Big Pine road. We’ll have to go in via Crankshaft Crossing. They’ve got that road blocked off. The Oriental Wash road. ... I just hope they haven’t closed off the road from Crankshaft Crossing. Because then Tule Canyon is out. That means our day is over with. Just head back to Big Pine. No choice. ... Either that or go round about. Go over into Eureka Valley and then come up into Fish Lake Valley. Then go over to Palmetto and down. That’s 50 miles of tracking just to go 10. ... That would make me VERY angry!"

"Crankshaft Crossing at uh 234.4. [miles] 2:37. [P.M.] And THANK GOODNESS it’s still here!! The Park Service hasn’t ripped it out yet."

"That cabin is in sorry shape. It’s getting close to collapse. And somebody has destroyed the Aero Motor windmill. The well pump is destroyed. ... And it looks like some jackass crawled up the uh ... the windmill assembly. Probably took it off of its pivot and dropped it down. It’s just hanging down there." ~ Roosevelt City site in Tule Canyon.

"The last time I was here at Roosevelt was in January of 1997. I had my very first flat tire here on this truck."

"We’re leaving Gold Point. Boy, we had the welcoming committee! Cinnamon Schnapps with a beer chaser. You know, he had some cinnamon schnapps that was clear with gold flecks in it. It was called golden something ... German sounding. And you actually drank the gold."

"Sitting here on the tailgate, drinking a nice, cold brewski. Enjoying the view and ... beautiful." ~ Camp @ Stateline.

"I’m going to take a bath while I’m here. A shower. If you can call it such. On the uh ... sunny side of the truck. A nice, warm breeze. Do it before I freeze my butt off. ... Well, standing here buck naked to the Statelinians. ... The whole of Death Valley before me. The naked king and his paupers."

"It’s uh ... seventeen minutes until ten o’clock. Sitting here on the tailgate in the dark. Alan and Alan and I have been talking for some time. About Elian Gonzales, O.J. Simpson, the troubles of the world. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. ... Alan Hensher and I had a discussion about what we had done at school. And we had similar experiences. We both hung out in the library, because we were afraid of getting our butts kicked by the bullies, and read Desert Magazine."

Sunrise at Stateline.

I was up at 6:00 AM, in time to chronicle the sunrise. While packing up and making breakfast, the other two Alans got up and began their day. Alan Hensher got into a fight with his tent upon trying to fold it up and into its bag, the tent won. It ended up in a tangle in the back of Alan Patera’s Explorer.

After our camps were cleaned up, we head on down into Stateline and its myriad of stone ruins. The morning weather was warm for 6,000 feet, it was sunny and very pleasant. The standing adopted cabin had a broken window, so I spent a few minutes taping it back together with duct tape.

Exploring Stateline.

Adopted cabin at Stateline. Broken window was in the white door to the left.

After we toured Stateline, we head up to nearby Oriental. Joshua trees were in bloom along the way. Oriental sits higher than Stateline, up on the slopes of Gold Mountain, and sits in a scenic piñon forest with beautiful views northeast into the White Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. Here we explored the wood and stone ruins of Old Camp, then cut out to explore the mountaintop camp of Tokop.

Oriental.

Oriental.

Tokop.

We drove to the top of the mountain at a communications site, where a 360º view spread out before us. With such a wonderful view, it was easy to overlook Tokop’s ruins hidden just below us - wood and stone, collapsed cabins and mine adits.

After touring Tokop, we head back to Gold Point to enjoy Herb Robbins’ company. Herb showed us H.E.R.B., a large, old ‘40s International Harvester tow truck. H.E.R.B. stood for "Hornsilver Extraction & Recovery Buggy." Herb uses it to lower himself into Gold Points larger mine shafts, which he loves to explore.

Alan Patera and Herb spent much of the time going through old issues of the Hornsilver Herald that is in Herb’s collection, the two of them developing plans to create and future issue of WESTERN PLACES on Gold Point and vicinity. I enjoyed Herb’s authentic player piano, which also has several band instruments built in, now playing its tunes with the aid of a laptop computer.

Afterward, we went out to the garage, where Herb fired up his old Fairbanks-Morse single cylinder gas engine. Though having no exhaust pipe nor muffler of any kind, the huge old one-lunger is very quiet considering that the compression opened exhaust poppet vents directly to atmosphere. Running at a top speed of about 450 RPM, huge flywheels spin without protection, while Herb runs his and arms all around while adjusting the carburetor and squirting gasoline from a small oil can to keep it running.

All too soon it was time for us to leave. The trip was now over. Alan Patera was going to make his way north toward home in Oregon, Alan Hensher needed to pick up his truck at my home in Ridgecrest. But first we were all going to stop by my home in Big Pine to shower.

We stopped by the ghost town of Palmetto on the way, I found that somebody had spray painted obnoxious graffiti on the historical marker sign. We also stopped by the ghost of White Mountain City in Deep Springs Valley.

After we all had taken our turn showering at my home in Big Pine, it was time to part ways. Alan Patera head north to camp at Lundy Lake for the night, Alan Hensher and myself head south to Ridgecrest.

Alan Hensher checks out some Hornsilver history while Alan Patera and Herb Robbins looks on.

H.E.R.B. (Hornsilver Extraction & Recovery Buggy)

Herb starting the old Fairbanks-Morse.

The Fairbanks-Morse under power.

Palmetto.

Alan Hensher at Stateline, Nevada.

Alan Patera (left) and Alan Hensher inside the wooden cabin at Stateline, Nevada.

My Motorola FRS radios. The one on the right was the one that Alan Hensher seemed fond of sitting on ...

Indian Paintbrush, Stateline, Nevada.

What Alan Patera reports to be the old post office at Oriental, Nevada. This building has since collapsed.

This small “Cousin Jack” sits behind the old Oriental post office.

Rock ruins abound around the Oriental townsite, hidden in many gulches that convolute the side of Gold Mountain.

Tokop, Nevada.

Tokop, Nevada.

Gold Point, Nevada.

Herb Robbins and his Fairbanks-Morse gasoline engine.

From the Hornsilver Herald.

From the Hornsilver Herald.

From the Hornsilver Herald.

From the Hornsilver Herald.

"Discussion on historical butcher shops. If they bought meat like we do today. Cut. Or on the hoof, as Alan Hensher says. Alan Patera says they had to display the hide to show that the butcher shop legally purchased the cow."

"Alan Hensher is wrestling with his tent and his tent is winning!"

"Well, that was certainly an interesting road! Very well bladed. Esmeralda County is probably one of the smallest and poorest counties in the United States, but probably has brand new road equipment. They’ve bladed a road virtually to nowhere. I was traveling 35 to 40 all the way, even down the canyon. Which is basically bladed smack down the middle of the canyon floor. So anyway, we’re within sight of Gold Point right now, about a mile from there, entering into it. I’ve been eating Alan’s dust all this way."

"Well, I got stopped in downtown Gold Point by the Nevada Highway Department. A flagman."

"Some jackass has sprayed graffiti on the Palmetto sign."

"It’s 4:10. I’m leaving the Texaco station. I’m going to head up to the house. Took 11.3 gallons to come over here from uh Furnace Creek. Which isn’t too bad. Alan took 13 gallons. Of course, he says he’s carrying Alan Hensher and brought enough food for the entire Esmeralda County, and ate most of it … so … [chuckle]" ~ Big Pine, California.

"It’s ten minutes until nine. We got all of Alan Hensher’s stuff out of the truck and he’s just left. There’s one beer left in the ice chest and I’m having it." ~ At my home in Ridgecrest, California.