Trips Series:

Trip 2007A
Western Death Valley National Park:
Racetrack Valley, Lippincott Grade, Saline Valley, Steele Pass, Eureka Valley
March 24-25, 2007

Prequel:

What connection does Arizona have with Big Pine? Is there an association between two Toyota Tacomas and a Land Rover? And how does Panamint Charlie.com figure into this mix? Blend all the above ingredients into a bowl and stir, bake a few weeks and what comes out of the oven became Trip 2007: western Death Valley National Park.

In late February of 2007, a bulletin board thread appeared on Panamint Charlie's website with dialog between Tom Harvey and another individual regarding Steele Pass; that pathway running between Saline Valley and Eureka Valley. At a point on the trail, just before it disgorges out of DeDeckera Canyon and into Eureka Valley, is a 2,500 foot long section of bedrock stair-steps that are just rugged enough that it might put some fear into a lone venturer unsure of his own skills or that of the vehicle they are driving.

In past times, Tom Harvey attempted Steele and turned back. He wanted to try it again – this time with some company along to guide him through the tight sections. He posted on Panamint Charlie his concerns and an invitation to join him. Previous to this trip, I had never met Tom in person.

I thought about Tom's invitation a bit – I just paid nearly $1,500 for a major service and minor repairs on my 2002 Toyota Tacoma TRD 4WD pickup and I needed nearly $950 worth of new tires. Those on the truck were in no shape for me to tackle the tire eating rocks of western Death Valley National Park without undue worry of one or more flat tires. Should I bite the inevitable bullet, shod the truck with new tires and go along?

And, as is usual, my buddy Graham C. - oft present on this website, is always willing to toss duffel bag and his dog – Toby – into his 2000 Toyota Tacoma TRD 4WD and go reconnoitering – took me up on my invitation.

The result is what I call Trip 2007-A ¹, which came about near the end of March, 2007. I invite you to come along for the ride. ² Tom's account of this same trip – albeit with more detail of his adventures besides those with Graham and myself, is found HERE.

Note: This page has footnotes, simply click on the number and it will drop you to the footnote. Click on the number next to the footnote after you are finished reading it, and it will bring you back to the main text where you left off.

Day 1: Saturday, March 24, 2007
Part 1: Beginning Trip @ Big Pine - Meeting w/Tom Harvey @ Hidden Valley

So thus began my part in the trip. My buddy, Graham C., lives nearby in our small town of Big Pine, located in the Owens Valley at the foot of the Sierra Nevada. Tom Harvey, had been reconnoitering on his own for several days in the Death Valley region and was going to spend nearly another week before heading back to his Arizona home.

Graham and I had a few things to pick up and do before our trip started and both of us crossed paths a time or two in Big Pine as we flitted between the gas station and stores. Each time I saw Graham's silver Tacoma go by, the big red head of his dog, Toby, was sticking out the passenger side window, eager to feel the wind in his face. By 8:00 AM, both Graham and I had collected what we needed and filled our tanks, and were now rolling eastward out of Big Pine.

Our first destination was to meet Tom Harvey in Hidden Valley, which is located just south of the Racetrack Valley in western Death Valley National Park. Our meeting place was just shy of 100 miles from Big Pine, at the junction of the road that runs south from Teakettle Junction (located in Racetrack Valley; the road itself runs south then west over Hunter Mountain and joins the road running into the south end of Saline Valley) and the road that runs west to the Lost Burro Mine.

The first leg of the trip was over the paved portion of the Big Pine to Death Valley road, paved for about 29 miles until reaching the Eureka Valley floor. It was here that Graham and I pulled over to the side of the road for the task of dropping our tire pressures. ⁴ As Graham and I were working on our trucks, Graham's dog Toby occupied himself nearby digging up large rocks, shuffling them around between his front feet, biting the rocks, whining, barking and jumping up and down on them. It's an odd habit that Toby seems to relish, which has Graham scratching his head trying to figure that one out.

A bit more than an hour after leaving Big Pine, our tire pressures dropped, Graham and I started out again. Graham was in the lead and no sooner got up to speed when he slammed on his brakes and jumped out of this truck. He saw a snake in the road and Graham is fascinated by them. ⁵ The snake was not a rattlesnake but a racer or gopher.

15) It’s 9:21. At 40.4 miles, the turnoff to the sand dunes. The road across Eureka is washboarded, but not terribly so. Um … had a rather rude chap in a late model Toyota 4-Runner blow by me in the opposite direction. Pretty good clip. Got a snoot and windshield full of gravel. I’d say he was doing well over 50 or so. I was just putting along about 35 and 40. Yup, there’s a new chip in the windshield directly ahead of my CB radio.

The dirt road portion of the Big Pine to Death Valley road was in pretty good shape, inviting high speeds – which one rude individual in a Toyota 4-Runner decided to take advantage of, blasting by me at high speed in the opposite direction, liberally pepper-spraying my truck and windshield with gravel. A small chip in my windshield resulted. I had also waved at the individual as he approached me, but he responded with a “You're an idiot” type of look as his head swiveled in my direction. After my face full of gravel, I was thinking the same thing – along with additional evil thoughts.

The road surface returns to pavement as it climbs the Last Chance Range that forms the barrier between Eureka and Death Valleys. At its summit, the site of the former sulfur mining camp of Crater is found – glaring white hillsides amid somber brown ones punctuated by a few scattered rusty remnants of metal.

Beyond Crater mining camp, the road turns back to dirt and remains so for the next 28¼ miles down to where it hits pavement again at the road to Ubehebe Crater. The road's surface has a reputation for washboards and stones, but today wasn't in bad condition.

18) At 52.8 miles. 9:56 AM. 67.1° degrees. 4,000 feet. Crankshaft Crossing.

At Crankshaft Crossing, Graham and I were now down into Death Valley. Only at Crankshaft, you are at the northern extremity of the valley and it's nowhere near as harsh and convoluted as it's famous for far to the south. The valley floor is at or very near 4,000 feet, piñon forests are found a short distance away, and you are very close to the Nevada state line.

At Crankshaft Crossing is found a wooden sign festooned around about with crankshafts, an engine block or two and other automotive bric-a-brac. The main road takes a sharp tangent southeast, while another road heads northeast, then crosses west and enters Nevada via Oriental Wash or Tule Canyon.

The road south through Death Valley was the smoothest I've ever experienced. Only short sections of very mild washboard was encountered.

24) Stopping to help a motorist with a flat tire.

On the road south through Death Valley, within five miles of the junction with the paved road to Ubehebe Crater, I noticed dust from an approaching vehicle a couple miles away to the south. But soon the dust stopped. Shortly, I rounded a curve and found an older Ford Explorer with a flat tire. A man and his wife were out of the truck; he already had the lug nuts loosened and was trying to jack up the Ford with a small bottle jack. I stopped and offered aid. He seemed reluctant, she convinced him they needed our assistance.

I pulled out my Hi-Lift jack and a block of wood. Fortunately the Ford had a stout rear bumper, and so placed my jack under the bumper next where it mounts to the frame; a block of wood was inserted as a buffer between my jack's metal claw so as not to tear up the bumper's chrome. The wife of the Ford's owner seemed to enjoy photographing Toby and watching him as he went through his rock attack drill nearby.

Things went well until the Ford's owner went to drop down the spare tire. He could not find the handle to the cable winch upon which the tire is suspended underneath the truck. Knowing that the Toyota Tacomas of Graham and I have a similar system, I called out from under the Ford to Graham – I was on my back underneath to see if I could manage to wiggle the tire out of its hold – to see if he could grab his winch handle; which are stored in an inside compartment in the floor of the rear end of the cab. I had that area of my Tacoma crammed with my luggage and sleeping bags, so didn't want to have to remove all that to retrieve mine. Graham's winch handle fit the Ford and worked perfectly to drop down the spare tire. The Ford's owner swapped out the tire, torqued down the lug nuts and then I dropped the Ford back down onto its wheels and stashed my jack in its mount in the back of my truck.

25) Ok. 11:04. Rolling again. Help those people change their tire out. They had a very difficult time, it turned out. Their spare tire hoist … they didn’t have the tool to go in there and turn the hoist down. Fortunately the Toyota … hoist fit and we were able to hoist the tire down. Graham used his. I used my Hi Lift jack, of course. I lost a gallon of water. I uh … went to pull … when I got done, I pulled out my gallon of water to get a drink, and sliced it open on the lever to flop the seatback over. So I basically lost a gallon of water in my water jugs. Hopefully we won’t loose our connection with Tom Harvey now. Because it’s uh … going to be close now. If we haul ass, we can probably make it.

After the man and wife shook our hands and thanked us for our help, Graham and I tore off southward toward the Ubehebe Crater road. Tom and I had settled on 11:00 AM to Noon as our meeting time and it was now past 11:00. I knew that we had more than an hour and 30 miles or more of dirt road left to make it to our meeting location.

27) I haven’t made an entry now in a while. It’s 11:29. We’re on the road to The Racetrack. Probably only a couple miles above Ubehebe Crater. So, hopefully we can … hopefully Tom is not the impatient sort.

Graham and I hit the paved road to Ubehebe Crater, then reluctantly sped up the broad alluvium gradient that rambles for seemingly endless miles to Racetrack Valley. Several vehicles were encountered as they came down; we also came upon two pickup trucks driven by elderly folks who kindly pulled over to let us by. Graham and I made it a point to make sure that we thanked them heartedly as we pulled by slowly for a distance before hitting the gas again to lessen the amount of dust that our gracious fellow travelers would have to eat.

34) Ok. Approaching Teakettle Junction. 96.3 miles. 12:04.

Graham suddenly stopped ahead of me at the teakettle festooned sign indicating Teakettle Junction to inquire which way it was to the Lost Burro Mine. I had told him earlier to turn left (south) at the sign to meet Tom. But in Graham's mind nothing looked like it had years ago when he last visited the area, so he decided to inquire.

Graham did turn south and as we passed up and through Lost Burro Gap, we were chatting on our FRS radios. ⁶ Before long, we heard Tom call out to us, as he was listening to us as we came into radio range, and we were now zeroing in on his location.

35) Ok. Made radio contact with Tom. We’re approaching his location. And at 99.5, we’re at his location.

Tom was parked alongside the road, beginning his lunch out of the back of his 2006 Land Rover LR3. Graham and I pulled up and shook hands with Tom for the first time. Lunch for me was simple – a can of tuna and some chips. We all set up chairs around the back end of Tom's Land Rover and chatted while eating. I also spent time inspecting Tom's Garmin Gecko 201 GPS unit. A larger Garmin GPS with built in maps sat atop Tom's dashboard. While Graham and Tom got more acquainted, I acquainted myself with the beautiful landscape with my camera and videocamera. Our view unimpeded by the open space of Hidden Valley, to our south was the north face of Hunter Mountain, farther south was the snowy 11,048 foot high summit of Telescope Peak in the Panamint Range.

Day 1: Saturday, March 24, 2007
Part 2: Lost Burro Mine - Teakettle Junction

38) I’m on the road to the Lost Burro Mine now. It’s 1:34. Part way up it. 103.0 miles. Two-track. I’m in a canyon. We climbed up the alluvium and now we’re in a canyon. Two-track. Washed out and eroded. But not too bad to where you can’t pass through but enough for caution. Very pretty in here. Lots of beautiful strata in the facing mountain.

After lunch we all re-boarded our respective vehicles and head west-southwest a short distance to the Lost Burro Mine. Tom and Graham had been there in the past, but I had not yet had the pleasure. I stayed in the rear of the caravan videotaping our travels. The road went up a narrow slot in the ridge that separated Racetrack Valley from Hidden Valley, then the canyon opened up into a Technicolor hued bowl. At the Lost Burro Mine are numerous relics left over from of a small mine camp. We parked our vehicles at the main cabin and began our foot reconnoiter of the camp and mine complex.

At the mine camp are the main cabin, a cousin Jack affair (cave or mine adit with a wooden home-like structure in front), and an outhouse. On the hillside to the south of the main cabin, a dim road goes to a saddle; along this road are the leveled pads upon which are found tidbits and scraps of lumber and broken china – remains of homesites of yesteryear. Above the camp is visible a headframe standing upon substantial tailings; other large tailings piles can be seen up canyon beyond on both sides. Some of the mine adits appear safe and there are no barriers blocking entrance to them. Graham, the mine explorer of us three, went inside several of them. Seems that every time I visit a mine site with Graham, he finds out the hard way the reason why miners wore hardhats – and again he whacked his head hard against the flinty ceiling; hard enough that it brought him to his knees.

44) I haven’t made an entry in a while. It’s five minutes until three. It’s hard to believe that we left Big Pine only seven hours ago. It seems so much later in the day. We’ve toured some of the upper workings of the mine and went on a lateral above the main mining structure up there. The millsite, if that’s what it is. Some sort of processing structure up there. Uh … from the main cabin, where we parked our vehicles, we walked up a little trail a short distance to a saddle to the south and east. Uh … we found some leveled building sites up here and some lumber. Collapsed lumber, indicating homes or other buildings. Cabins that were part of this cluster here. Some china. Broken china. Etcetera.

At 3:13 PM, Tom, Graham and I re-entered our vehicles and drove away from the Lost Burro. At this point we had a relatively open agenda. We had originally thought about continuing down the Lippincott Grade right away and camping at the bottom; we had thought about camping at the Lippincott Lead Mine. But first we thought we'd simply get to nearby Teakettle Junction for an obligatory photo of us at the teakettle festooned sign.

At the sign we found a number of people taking photos at the sign which required we wait our turn. While standing about and talking with some of the visitors, we managed to talk one individual – who was driving a Jeep Cherokee and pulling a small travel trailer – into taking a photo of Graham, Tom, Toby and myself standing by the sign. My trip odometer on my Tacoma was reading 105.0 miles since leaving my home.

Day 1: Saturday, March 24, 2007
Part 3: Teakettle Junction - The Racetrack

48) We’ve got a change of plans. We decided not to go down the Lippincott. It’s quarter to four now. We would be going down … the sun is not that low in the sky yet, but we would be going down with the sun in our eyes. We’re thinking about going down to the Lippincott Mine and camping there for the night. Tom says that as long as we’re only going down that short distance and not going down the Lippincott Grade tonight, we might as well go over to the sliding rocks. So I’ll be able to photograph and videotape the sliding rocks of The Racetrack up close and personal. [Graham on radio: “Radio check.”]

I had traveled into Racetrack Valley in the past, as well as had Graham and Tom. However, neither Graham nor myself had actually ever stepped foot onto the playa's surface and walked across to its southeastern tip to view the sliding rocks. So we decided to spend time walking across the playa to a mountain of black rock, the source of the majority of the mysterious sliding rocks of The Racetrack.

The road south from Teakettle Junction was the worst that Graham and I had encountered – irritating washboard so rough I thought within a mile my Tacoma was going to be reduced to a scattering of parts laying motionless in the middle of the road as each and every fastener fell by the wayside. No matter where I placed my truck in the road, no matter if I drove 5 miles per hour or 15 miles per hour, teeth jarring washboard rattled the very infrastructure of the truck; making the CD player useless as it skipped about and finally spit out my CD in surrender. The truck would dance and skitter as if I was slip-sliding over ice as each tire was literally tossed into the air by the foot tall peaks placed six inches apart all along the miles from Teakettle Junction to The Racetrack. Putting the truck in 4WD does not seem to help on small trucks in this situation, although in full size trucks it usually does.

At a point 5.8 miles south of Teakettle Junction, there is a parking area and an information kiosk about The Racetrack, Grandstand and the sliding rocks. However, the mystery rocks are not found near here. We drove further south, parking at an obscure location at the southern tip of the playa's surface. From there, we walked about 3,600 feet across the playa to a rocky outcrop and found a plethora of mystery rocks – albeit some obviously aided by human hands to start their race across The Racetrack. ⁷ But we did find plenty of natural racing rocks and their telltale trails. Afternoon lighting and ambiance were wonderful.

Some of the stones were being studied, these identified by a serial number etched into them. Unfortunately, a few people just had to mess with things – turning rocks over, putting them elsewhere other than their original course. Tom, Graham and I could only shake our heads in frustration at the actions of the minority impacting the majority ...

Day 1: Saturday, March 24, 2007
Part 4: The Racetrack – Camp @ Head of Lippincott – End of the Day

68) This spot that I’ve chosen as a campsite at the top of the Lippincott is at 114.8 miles.

After seeing the racing rocks of The Racetrack for myself for the first time, we all set our sights on setting up camp for the night. So Tom, Graham, Toby and I walked back across the lake bed to our vehicles, and went south.

The Racetrack Valley is officially off limits to camping, with the exception of the southernmost end of the road, at what is shown on Death Valley National Park maps as “Homestake Dry Camp.” Not a campground, it's merely a road end with a small loop, around which you can park and set up a tent. No tables, fire rings or anything else that makes it a real campground; other than a filthy, smelly, dilapidated plastic “porta-potty” that was in desperate need of pumping when I visited.

69) It’s quarter until six. I’ve got my truck up on a leveling rock to level up the back end. Like I say, we’re at the end of the Racetrack Valley road right where you plunge down the Lippincott.

Graham, Tom and I went to the very top of the Lippincott grade and set up our respective camps set up about the roundabout at the top of the grade next to badly faded warning sign. Due to my propensity toward privacy and night time snoring, I set up camp on the northern side of the roundabout, while Tom and Graham set up side by side on the south side. To make for a level camp, I rolled up one back wheel onto a convenient stone that happened to be patiently waiting there for centuries for my arrival.

72) Big, dumb mistake number one. I brought the queen size air mattress instead of the double.

I had brought along an air mattress for use in the back of the truck, but packed the wrong one – I accidentally brought along my queen size mattress that my wife and I use in the house for company instead of the single size mattress, the queen-sized being far too large to use in the back of the Tacoma. The queen mattress was the width of my truck's bed, but the fenders would have rolled the sides up to semi-encapsulate me. Though I could have slept on it comfortably, I didn't want the mattress to snag on and blow out on the mounting brackets for my Hi-Lift jack nor various bracketry I have here and there on the bed's sides for mounting odds and ends. Fortunately, it didn't appear that it was going to be a cold night, so I used the extra sleeping bag I usually use to throw over the top of my main bag as padding on the Tacoma's hard rubber bed mat.

Our campsite proved to have a gorgeous view. Though the sun went down behind the Inyo Range early, the remainder of Racetrack Valley lit up in the late afternoon sun, exposing a myriad of desert colors.

74) I just used Tom’s satellite phone. Pretty neat!

Since Tom was traveling alone in remote areas far removed from a cell phone signal, he rented a satellite phone. He called his wife to let her know he was OK as a demonstration of its abilities. Both of us could get a dim cell phone signal at the top of the Lippincott, likely from one of the communications sites atop the Inyo Range near Cerro Gordo, but our small phones didn't have the transmitting power to reach them to get out onto the air. Tom handed me the phone so I could give his wife my home phone number and my wife's name so she could give a call to my home to let my wife know that I was still alive and well. The phone is much in shape and size as was the first Motorola “flip” style cell phones that came out a decade ago; with the addition of a large diameter, flip up antenna mast.

Just as it was getting dark, two Park Service vehicles pulled up and two rangers got out to talk to us. We were in a “gray” area as to our camp sites. But the rangers were cool, they didn't ask us to pull up stakes and move either down the road a ways or to go over to the Homestake camp. They visited with us for about ten minutes then moved on down the Lippincott in the increasing darkness of the evening.

80) I just switched the Hellas on and they didn’t come on! Can’t understand why. The fuse is fine and the connectors look to be in place. Unless the connector came off the bottom of the switch over all those killer washboards!

Tom and Graham had asked about my Hella off-road lights, which I had recently mounted to the front of my Tacoma. To illustrate their brightness, I switched them on. Only they didn't come on. I fiddled about with various connectors under the hood and behind the lights to no avail. Needless to say I was irked. I remained irked about it the rest of the trip whenever I thought about it.

82) It’s not too cold out right now. I don’t know what the temperature is right now. But … it’s a little chillier than it was earlier. When we were all settled down. ... Mostly just sat around and talked there in the night. Almost a half moon. So it’s illuminated pretty well to the naked eye. Tom has another interesting gadget. It’s from REI. It replaces the Maglite bulb with an LED … an array of LEDs. He says that LEDs are much easier on batteries. The way they work. And so they don’t appreciably dim over the life cycle of the battery as an incandescent bulb does. And he was using a Mini Maglite with the LEDs. And he says that he put it in three years ago and yet has to replace the batteries.

After setting up our respective camps, Tom, Graham and I passed the evening by getting more acquainted, discussing backgrounds, and comparing camping and exploration gadgets. Tom and I also pulled out our respective laptop computers and compared topographic map software. I noticed that Tom's program had the same interface and toolbars as mine; he was running a version of Terrain Navigator, a newer version of my Earth Visions.

At quarter after 10:00 o'clock, I retired into the back of my Tacoma. Tom and Graham talked softly for a while after I settled in for the night, then retired to their respective abodes – Graham and Toby sharing the bed of Graham's Tacoma and Tom slept alone in his tent.

Day 2: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Part 1: Waking Up @ the Head of the Lippincott

My post-midnight sightings were also accompanied by moonlight raids on Toby's food dish by the native population – a kit fox and a coyote got Graham's attention, but my dreams were now real as I was fast asleep and missed the natural history lesson.

8) [Echo] Good thing I brought my own T.P. This outhouse is a Porta-Potti. And it’s in deplorable shape. Filthy. Rat droppings all over the place. Almost full. The door doesn’t latch. Graffiti. Terrible.

Getting my water boiling to make coffee was my first important task of the day. I made a quick breakfast of milk and cereal, then ran over to the Homestake Dry Camp for the second most important task of the day – to use the blue plastic outhouse. Though not a pleasant environment, it was certainly better than sitting bare-butt exposed on my Hassock (a bucket within a plastic cylinder with a toilet seat on it) to all those who might be passing by to try the Lippincott Grade. At the head of the Lippincott, there was no place to get out of sight.

Day 2: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Part 2: Dropping off the Lippincott Grade

13) It’s 8:53 and we’re getting ready to do the Lippincott. As Graham says, if somebody comes up … [Graham on radio: “Yeah, are you going to let your motor warm up a bit, Tom?”] … uh, if somebody comes up, we’re going to have to back up and find a uh … [Tom on radio: “I don’t see … it’s not revving very much, so I feel I can probably …”] … we got to be the ones that back up.

When I returned from the outhouse at the Homestake, Tom and Graham were pretty much ready to roll. The Lippincott Grade was our elevator to drop us into the basement that is Saline Valley. And what a ride! ⁸

14) The Lippincott immediately plunges as soon as it starts. It’s not extremely steep. Yet. It’s rocky.

Graham took point, with Tom wedged in between he and I, as our threesome jumped off the earthly platform atop the Lippincott. Not knowing what to expect, yet with minds full of the legend of the Lippincott, we inched our way downward. The Lippincott has quite a legend that can make the hair stand of most mortal men and their 4x4 machines. The legends speak of Jeep eating rocks, bottomless cliffs, and off camber slides into space.

22) I wouldn’t certainly navigate this in a Toyota RAV-4 or Honda CR-V; but for pretty much any other four-wheel-drive vehicle, it would be fine. Especially on descent. Two-wheel-drive could descend it so far to this point. But I certainly wouldn’t recommend it.

But our traveling band did not find Lippincott scary at all. The road was tame, the views gorgeous, and the pathway mostly to ourselves. Tom, Graham and I took our time descending the grade, enjoying the several viewpoints that dot the upper portion of the Lippincott.

26) Stopped here at a point uh … [Graham on radio: “Say again, Dave.”] [To Graham on radio:] – They’re rolling now. – [Graham on radio: “Good .”] Stopped here at 1.6 miles. Couple of vehicles coming up. A Jeep Cherokee. Like Graham’s, but modified. And a Jeep Wrangler. Both were driven by women.

In the deep central canyon midway down the Lippincott, Graham and Tom had continued on ahead. I stopped behind to enjoy some photography. At a point where the trail starts to switchback to the bottom of the canyon, I could see Tom and Graham approaching a wide turn with plenty of room to get off. They would need that room, as about a mile down the canyon were two vehicles slowly making their way up. Over my FRS radio, I called Graham and Tom to let them know of the situation. I pulled on down and parked on a highpoint inside a tight switchback to watch all and keep Graham and Tom abreast of their progress, as they were blind to any downhill activity from their point of view. While I was standing there, a couple of young men in a black Toyota Tacoma TRD pulled up and joined me on the side of the canyon.

In time, the uphill travelers in a Jeep Cherokee and Wrangler met Graham and Tom. They stopped to chat a bit. After I watched them pull away, Graham came over the FRS to tell me that women were driving both rigs. After a few minutes, both vehicles came by me and waved at my video camera as I was taking video of the 4x4 action.

I let the black Tacoma go first, as I was in no hurry and didn't want someone on my backside maybe cursing me under their breath as I reconnoitered along enjoying the ride. Then I met Graham and Tom down where they had parked.

27) I stayed on the switchback that Graham and Tom pulled off on. And uh videotaped them going down. Looked like there might be a spot that was just out of sight. It sounded like Tom did some serious crunching in there. Although I didn’t hear him say anything on the radio about doing damage, so I guess he hit his skid plates … [Tom on radio: “… try to find a place to pull off but uh …”] [Graham on radio: “Oh, OK, Tom .”] [To Tom on radio:] – I copy that, Tom. – Another truck coming up. Anyway, uh … [Graham on radio: “Is it coming up, or is it that black Toyota that passed us? ”] [Tom on radio: “Sorry, it’s the black Toyota going down .”] [Graham on radio: “Oh, OK .”] OK. So it’s the black Toyota going down. Anyway, Tom was doing some crunching in there. And Graham was really gyrating on his suspension in there.

Below the point where the trail drops into the deep canyon, the trail roughens up a bit. Tom's Land Rover has the off road suspension option, in which Tom can twist a dial to fully extend the truck up on its suspension for more ground clearance. The trail in here came closer to the legend of the Lippincott, but still had a long way to go to get scary. Bedrock punctuated the road's surface, in places causing the Tacomas of Graham and I to dance a bit on their long legs; while the Land Rover of Tom tried to imitate a mining stamp mill and pound rock with its skid plates a couple of times.

31) For a change, I made a decent pot of instant coffee. Filled up the Thermos. Poured in plenty of milk. Tastes pretty decent. Instead of unpalatable.

32) Cruising the Lippincott, with my cheap cup of coffee. On a morning commute.

A short time later, the road left the canyon's bottom and angled up the canyon side and into some relatively flat middle ground near the floor of Saline Valley, making for a nice ride. The air was warming up as we descended into Saline Valley, but not yet hot. The views were stupendous and I was out doing what I love to do. A few hundred miles to the south, the lot of the Angelenos of southern California were stuck inching along in gridlocked, smog spewing traffic as I was descending the Lippincott.

35) The creosote is blooming here as I’m dropping to the valley floor now. Almost to the valley floor. On the last little leg. Almost level as it angles across. And then it’s the upper reaches of the alluvium. Tom and Graham have parked in a former camping spot of Tom’s. Tom, of course, had it marked on his GPS and uh just drove back to the same spot. They’re about a half mile ahead of me at this point. OK, I’ve reached the bottom of the grade at what is a true 4.5 miles. Uh … now it’s getting kind of sandy. Alluvial rivulets. The road is not particularly rocky at this point. Bedrock speaking. I’m cruising along at about 15 miles per hour. Cruising comfortably. I’m going to cross some washes now. Their surface determines my speed. But they look like they’re gentle. Yeah. Just kept the same speed.

I caught up with Tom and Graham at Tom's former camping spot. And what a spot it was – with a wonderful view north of all of Saline Valley and the mountains surrounding it. After a few minutes talking, we continued along the short distance out to the main road through Saline Valley. And that was it. I fought the monster Lippincott and won!

Day 2: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Part 3: Saline Valley

48) It’s 11:58 and … still bouncing along the bottom here. Very washboarded. You can only do 20 to 25 miles per hour. I haven’t seen Graham and Tom for a while, so I don’t know where they’re at. Kind of skirting the outer edge of the dry lake for a while. Not very far away, but actually I’ve not reached the dry lake. I think I can see the salt tram summit station atop the Inyos there. Yeah, I can. Very interesting. OK, I can see some tram towers off in the distance, too.

Turning north from the junction of Saline Valley Road and the road up the Lippincott Grade, our caravan turned north for the traverse across the length of Saline Valley. Distances are deceptive out here – it looks like a hop, skip and a jump from the junction over to the Springs area, yet it was a long ways off in terms of both time and distance. The road through Saline Valley does get periodic maintenance, but it also gets rough in a hurry. So it's almost always a slow, miserable slog over washboarded misery.

Graham and Tom were traveling a bit faster than I and stayed about two miles ahead of me at all times. I merely drove at a speed in my comfort zone (if you could call teeth rattling washboard “comfortable”) and didn't worry about how far they got ahead of me. As long as I could hear them talk on the FRS radio, I felt I was OK if something should arise in the form of vehicular trouble. And besides, Saline Valley is scenic.

As I drove along, I spotted on the summit of the Inyo Range, nearly 8,000 feet above the valley floor, the large structure that is the summit station of the historic salt tram that ran between Swansea – in the Owens Valley just north of the community of Keeler – and the water logged salt playa that was spread out before me in Saline Valley. I've been to that summit station several times and it's amazing to me that the western terminus of the tramway was now less than 13 miles away from my position as the raven flies; yet it is hours away by vehicle. ⁹

With such wide open spaces that is Saline Valley, when Tom and Graham pulled off on a road angling northeast to the salt encrusted playa that sits in Saline's low point, they were well within my visual periphery, even though they were two miles or more away. A series of wooden towers ran out to the playa, the easternmost ones that made up the 13-mile long tramway over to Owens Valley. I joined Graham and Tom at one of the several small, wooden towers that are still in place near the surface of the playa. It had been nearly 16 years since I had come to Saline Valley and stopped at likely the very same tower. A comparison of my portrait standing at the tower then and now is a lesson in aging and humbling.

After our inspection and discussion with each other about the marvels of tramway engineering, Tom, Graham and myself continued on, in immediate search of a suitable location for a lunchtime break. My outdoor thermometer was registering a warm 90° and something shady seemed ideal but probably not obtainable in the Saline Valley floor.

The main road curved northward as it bumped against the eastern foot of the massive Inyo Range. Heavy thickets of willow, salt cedar and other vegetation appeared as the playa's surface approached the base of the range. Springs produced a body of water on the surface of the playa, which soften the appearance of the land. A few scattered dwellings were also present nearby, looking at least occasionally occupied.

Due to the dense vegetation, the abruptness of the landscape and other factors, we elected to dine in the open on a road running up to the mouth of Hunter Canyon. On a level spot midway up the alluvium we dropped our tailgates (in Tom's case, his was a raised liftgate) and set about to preparing our individual lunches. Due to the heat, I elected to refresh myself with a cold beer; something I don't often partake of before late afternoon.

54) OK. We’ve had lunch up here. Up on the alluvium near the mouth of a canyon. We were up above the valley floor. Beautiful views. Been here about 45 minutes. We’ve done some talking, because of the lateness of the hour … oops! Because of the lateness of the hour … that uh … [Talking on radio:] – Radio on. – But uh … we talked several options. I mentioned that if Graham wanted to stay with Tom and do that hike that Tom wants to do, then Graham and Tom can do that hike together, stay the night with him. And I’ll just shoot out North Pass and go home. Because I want to get home in time to unload the truck, put air back in the tires, etcetera. Tom says that … although he would like to do that hike, he’s not really committed to it. Because it’s pretty warm down here. It’s 98° down here right now. Pretty toasty. We’re all sweating pretty good right now. Steele Pass is higher, of course, but hiking in direct sunlight is pretty toasty. So he says he’s not that committed. He said let’s just go and do Steele Pass. And then Tom’s going to go over to Crankshaft Crossing area and do a hike tomorrow. Graham and I will head on back. So, we’re figuring that since we left now, we should be over Steele by dusk easily. This based upon calculations using one of Tom’s prior trips where he did make the entire pass. So we should be able to do it and … [tape speed change] … get over there.

55) Ok. I thought I had … I wasn’t sure what speed I was at. I accidentally hit the tape speed button. Anyway, we figure we can be over the pass by 6:00, before dark. So that would put Graham and I home by 8:00 o’clock or so. So anyway, that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go ahead and do Steele Pass. We’re heading back down to the main road from our lunch site now. We’ll bypass the springs. I think I’ll stop at the bathroom at Palm Spring and change into my shorts. Because it’s toasty up here. And uh … kind of freshen myself up and hit the road.

After lunch, we continued northward, immediate goal was the east-west road accessing Saline Valley's popular hot springs. Neither Tom nor Graham was interested in soaking at the hot springs, they simply wanted to bypass them. I've never been inside the main springs in the past, but elected to bypass the springs with Tom and Graham instead of holding them up. Plus I had nothing to really bathe in, nor was I interested in bathing nude in public. ¹⁰ But a stop at the Park Service bathroom was in order.

74) I don’t know if I noted it, but I changed into my shorts there, changed out of my underwear into some clean underwear. Hot, sticky underwear is certainly no fun!

At a point 27.6 miles from our camp at the top of the Lippincott Grade, our caravan turned east on the road to the Warm Springs complex, and the access to Steele Pass.

64) Ok, 34.9 miles. Stopped at the bathroom. A bulletin board there. A sign says “Bare Crossing.” B.A.R.E. And a sign says Palm Hot Spring, three-quarters of a mile.

At the main hot spring we found a dense jungle of salt cedar trees, the Park Service bathrooms, campers and 4x4 vehicles scattered about at various spots where people set up camp and the amusing sign indicating that two legged “bares” inhabit the area.

Day 2: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Part 4: Up and Over Steele Pass To Eureka Valley

65) I'm at 35.7 miles. Palm Spring. As soon as you pass the camping area, the trail turns narrow and rocky. Two-track.

At 2:42 PM, Graham, Tom and I left the Warm Spring complex. A few yards past Palm Spring, a wooden sign indicated that 4-wheel-drive was necessary beyond that point, and immediately the road went from a wide path to a narrow two-track trail. Within 0.7 tenths of a mile, the road and wash were one, making it tricky to determine if one's eyes were following the vehicle path, or a path carved by water during the last heavy runoff from some storm in the past.

At a point 2.2 miles above Palm Spring one reaches Upper Warm Spring. This spring is different than those below as it is not improved in any way, except for a chain-link perimeter fence, fencing in an area of three-quarters of an acre or so, so that the riparian area is not affected by feral burros. The interior of the fenced in area is thick in willows, reeds, palms and salt cedar trees. The pool itself runs clear, the only concession for hot water soaking is a few well placed stones in the main pool. From the pool, a view of Winnedumah – a stone monolith that stands some 80-feet high at the crest of the Inyo Range – could be had. The Owens Valley town of Independence can also see Winnedumah, yet that town – so close if we were birds – was so far away via four-wheeled vehicles.

At 3:09 PM, we three returned to our caravan vehicles and continued our journey. At 1.2 miles, Tom and Graham spotted what appeared to be a cabin maybe a half mile north of the road and setting down far enough that only the chimney and a portion of the roof is visible. So another half mile further, our caravan came to a half. Tom and Graham wanted to investigate that house, I wasn't in the mood so elected to stay behind. It was 3:35 when Tom, Graham and Toby took off. It was close to 4:30 when they returned.

82) Well, Tom is … he adamantly says it will only take a half hour at the most to make it to the top of the pass. I don’t know. It looks like a long way away. Based upon the way we’ve been traveling, a half hour turns into an hour real quickly.

The trip up the alluvium toward Steele Pass was tedious, but the road did seem to improve somewhat as the main wash channel was more defined and the route stayed away from it. The ground changed from hard packed desert pavement to softer gravels and sand. The climb was also deceptive as to altitude gain, although we could feel it as we watched our outdoor temperature displays drop.

Higher we crawled up toward Steele Pass, the faster my watch seemed to advance. It was apparent that it was going to be after dark before we got into Eureka Valley. It gets dark out this way and here my new Hella off road lights apparently weren't working.

89) I just realized that we’ll probably be going home in the dark. And my Hellas aren’t working. So now that I’m finally getting to do something that I bought my Hellas for, they’re out! Ugh!

At a point 13.1 miles above where our caravan left the relatively maintained road at Palm Spring, the route began to roughen somewhat. Another 0.6 tenths of a mile further and I switched on my rear differential locker for good measure. The route began to be punctuated by large boulders in the tracks, which caused considerable chassis flex and axle articulation. As slow as we were going, I desired maximum traction and forward progress at craw speeds. At this point, Tom requested spotting to help him guide his Land Rover. He wasn't having any issues with ground clearance, but wished to keep those stony nippers from taking a bite out of those expensive rims. Even with spotting, during the “dinner hour” at 5:45 PM, one of those wheel biters did get a taste or two of cast aluminum as an appetizer.

At 15.1 miles, after about 2.5 miles of slow crawling and an hour of hiking on the part of Graham and Tom, we topped Steele Pass. I had traveled 50.8 miles since leaving our camp at the head of the Lippincott Grade this morning. A well known but semi-mysterious place called Marble Bath – natural or unnatural, take your pick – lay nearby. However:

99) I just created my own Marble Bath in my cupholder. Trying to pull my videocamera over to me, the strap caught my cup and flipped it over upside down and filled up the entire cupholder with water. I had to mop it out with all the Kleenex I had on board.

Continuing northward, we enjoyed the last of the sun's rays on the western face of the Last Chance Range. The road's surface was relatively smooth two-track and little impeded a pleasant 25 mph reconnoiter. After the work climbing the south side of Steele Pass, our caravan smoothly glided northward. I pined that I did not feel pressured to make time nor have to go to work tomorrow.

100) At 54.0 miles. Absolutely gorgeous. The sun is setting. Very close to the horizon. High clouds that it’s shining through. But it’s bathed the countryside in a warm glow up here. I wish I didn’t have to rush through this. If I had tomorrow off work, I’d not worry because we could just camp or get home at anytime. But the Last Chance Range down by the sand dunes is absolutely stunning.

Due to the lateness of the hour, some of us must have been thinking about eating. Graham, of English birth and Australian upbringing, has a colorful vocabulary at times.

102) I learned a new word from Graham today. He mentioned on the radio just now that he was a little bit “peckish.” Tom asked him what that meant, and Graham replied that he was hungry.

One thing that was weighing on my mind was that if we came to the narrows of DeDeckera Canyon and and found them impassable, it was going to be a long trip backtracking to the hot springs, where I could take the North Pass road out of Saline Valley for home. But, at 7:00 PM and 8.1 miles after topping Steele Pass, well after sundown and further darkened by the narrowness of the canyon, Tom, Graham and I found ourselves at the first bedrock fall in the narrows of DeDeckera Canyon.

It took our caravan roughly 45 minutes to get down the bedrock stairsteps of the DeDeckera Canyon narrows; the majority of that time easing Tom's wider Land Rover down through the narrowest squeezes. Graham did the honors of easing Tom down the obstacles, I videotaped and captured digitally the process, Toby mostly barked his vocal cords to shreds at who knows what. During the procession, two men happened to come up from the Eureka Valley side and struck up a conversation with me while I stood by on a high rock chronicling Tom's movements. During the talk, I gave them one of my cards with my website. Turns out one of them has corresponded with me numerous times via email. Small world.

After Tom got his Land Rover down to the bottom of the rock falls, Graham and I whisked our Tacomas down without guidance in just a couple of minutes each.

About 15 minutes later, Tom chose a spot that didn't appear any different from what had been showing up in my headlights since we made the floor of Eureka Valley. He pulled his Land Rover off the trail a few yards and settled it into the attitude he wanted it for the night. It was well after dark. It was 8:00 PM and it had taken eleven hours to travel 63.0 miles to this point.¹¹

Tom pulled out his satellite phone and allowed me to call my wife so that I could let her know I was still alive and it would be likely another 1.5 to 2.0 hours before my white Tacoma would be pulling into my driveway.

Day 2: Sunday, March 25, 2007
Part 5: Eureka Valley to Home in Big Pine

©2007, 2008, 2009 D.A. Wright
All Rights Reserved

Page Revised: 02/24/2009

Footnotes