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.
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 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 Panamints. 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 there, 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.
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.
We
set up a nice camp with a view at Stateline. Alan Patera parked
his Explorer by the large A-frame, I parked over to the west on a
level platform, Alan Hensher set up his tent on a rise above me.
We enjoyed the sunset and its coloration of the land. The view
west from my camp extended over the north end of Death Valley, the
Last Chance Range, the Inyo Range and the Sierra.
My dinner
for the night consisted of canned beef stew with smoky links cut
up in it; some clam chowder, which I shared with the others; and
an instant mashed potato cup. After dinner was spent with wine and
conversation well after dark. Afterward, I crawled into the back
of my truck to read until turning off the lights late.
The Trip is Only Two-Thirds Over, So Let's Go To Day 3